


Til Kingdom Come

by poeticandvaguelysweet



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M, royal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticandvaguelysweet/pseuds/poeticandvaguelysweet
Summary: Claire Dearing had been lucky that her father never arranged a marriage for her. But, when her brother sells her off to the Grady’s as a trade deal in a peace treaty the pressure is on to love her husband for personal happiness, bare heirs for survival and keep her sanity intact in a kingdom she was always warned contained nothing but cruelty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whomp. Here it is. So, this isn’t the continuation of #208 y’all have been looking for. But, it’s something hopefully just as exciting. A royal AU. Inspired by Game of Thrones ... but I can’t really call it a GOT AU anymore. I have 9 chapters written. Will post one a week, not too sure how many parts until it’s completed. We’ll see what happens. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I did take a few names from GOT but they are in no way related to the characters that bore them. I was just watching the show and trying to think up era-appropriate names at the same time. AND although this is a period piece my language in some places may not display that. This is fanfic people. I’ve put in quite a few hard yards but y’all will live if I use terminology that didn’t exist in this fantasy time.

 

Life, as far as Claire Dearing knew it, was full of trade deals. One thing swapped for another in order to gain something better than what one previously had. She was supposed to understand that  _things_  were not permanent. What she had in her life was not always guaranteed and with that came her place amongst her father and eldest brother. As the youngest, her father kept her tucked behind his legs where no prying Lord could lay his eyes on her. He kept her for as long as he could, sending away her brothers and only sister to families across the four kingdoms while he held onto Claire.

She considered herself lucky in some ways, to be the last remaining of her father’s children. Treasured enough that he had not sent her away to some horrid, cold castle and an unforgiving man. At least her brothers got beautiful wives, Merrick marrying for love rather than advantage. She thought, perhaps, she could do the same; her father keeping her around on the off chance that Claire would find someone to marry closer to home. She didn’t. Claire was far more interested in the inside of her brother’s war room than the villages and the men within the castle's beyond. The fact of the matter was, Claire had to marry rich. As a woman, she needed her husband’s fortune to keep her comfortable, a fact she loathed when Merrick married Alyse, the daughter of a fisherman who had been trading in the citadels docks since they were children. It was outrageously unfair that her brothers had the pick of the crop, free to do as they pleased with their lives. Hers, although protected still remained under her father’s control.

Time ran out on her, good fortune drying up on the very day her father told her she would be wed. He was sending her away, marrying her off without consulting her first. The man was a ruffian, the soon to be king of his father’s kingdom on a wooded peninsula overlooking the ocean but not separate from thick forests. The Grady’s were to be feared, rough men who were unforgiving, breeding soldiers; men drawn to blood and war. They also bred wolves, large beasts stronger and taller than the woodland variety, rumoured to have fought alongside the Gods at the dawn of time. She had heard, if her memory served her correctly, that the prince kept four by his side for companionship on and away from hunting trips.

The Grady’s only held the crown due to a bloody battle, ripping the grounds from its previous owners a small decade before Claire had even been born. They kept to themselves choosing their battles wisely as they sneered and snarled at the opposition trying to forgo the bloodshed they had drenched the world with. Claire didn't buy it and until recently, neither did her father. He had sworn black and blue that Merrick was not to bargain with them. Her brother didn’t listen, now King, he could make his own decisions.

 _‘Leave the Grady’s be,’_  her father had croaked, ‘ _They will keep to themselves if you do not provoke them’._

Merrick always did as he pleased. That was partly why their father stepped down as King. No man wanted to lose his title before his time but Rickon Dearing knew if he didn’t he would lose his life at the hands of his crown motivated son. The Grady’s would pass as a great asset. They were war mongers, blood hungry, their dominant traits lying dormant for half a decade. Merrick deemed them safe because they had not caused distrust amongst the Dearing’s in recent years despite their history being full of death. Her family held the throne for fifty years. Her brother was sure they would make solid allies given the right persuasions. Claire was it. Her father's last daughter still unmarried. Merrick’s own daughter was far too young to be traded off in a marriage deal. If her brother could avoid sacrificing his four-year-old, then he would do what he must to ensure it.

‘ _You're too old to still be hiding behind Father’s protection, Claire.’_ Merrick had been stern, glaring down his nose at the young woman.  _‘I can't let you stick around, arguing about whether you are eligible to go to war or not. Be thankful we’re not marrying you to the King of the East. It’s his son who will be your groom.’_ She should have been thankful that her life was not going to be tied to a withering old man. Young or old, he was still a Grady and Claire didn't want that.

She had no choice. Her brother made arrangements for her, going behind their desperate father’s back as the older man begged there be some other way. Claire had been perturbed but not concerned until her father started to show panic.

‘ _Claire is my last daughter, Merrick. The baby! Please, don't send her away. She’s all I have left of your mother.’_

Her brother showed no remorse.  _‘Go with her then.’_ He had dismissed their father as Rickon stood beside his daughter’s chair.

_‘I will not live with a Grady!’_

_‘So be it! But, she will become one of them and she_ will _give them heirs.’_ Merrick threw a look towards her, the same sort of threatening look he would throw her way when she had misbehaved as a girl. If she did not comply with her brother’s wishes he would make her pay. There was no use in making everyone’s lives difficult just for her stubborn nature. She would hurt in return. It was her family’s livelihood at stake. If she did not accept this marriage, the Grady’s would retaliate taking what they felt would be an acceptable payment in turn.

They all knew it would mean death. The last thing Claire wanted was to end the lives of her family members for her own selfish and stubborn pride.

[...]

She barely had time to kiss her niece and nephew goodbye before her clothes and trinkets were packed into trunks and sent for the road ahead of her. The journey was six weeks long, the sun rising and falling on their travels too many times as Claire lost count in her boredom.  

A few of her brother’s men escorted her, joining Claire and her handmaid on the long road, all involved in the trade. Some had promised Merrick that they would stay with the Grady’s for a few years, watching over Claire’s place there as they learnt as much as they possibly could about the other house and its armies. They were to gain intelligence on their new allies in case the tables turned. Claire didn’t find it reassuring that her brother thought so little of their loyalty, prepared for the second shoe to drop if the tarts at her wedding turned sour.

She would make this man the happiest he had ever been if only to spite her brother’s doubt. Claire Dearing could single-handedly keep the peace between The Kings of the East and her family, The Keepers of the Four Kingdoms.

The Citadel had been her home all eighteen years of her life. Claire knew every inch of the city and it’s passages secret or not. She had not been allowed to run too freely amongst the commoners, but there were occasions when her handmaids would lose sight of her, missing hours at a time, where Claire found herself exploring her options in her concrete home. The second she laid eyes on Grady land, the King’s Guard pointing out the large mountain ranges draped in green, declaring their feet on  _her_  new home soil, she felt lost.

‘ _This place will never be home to me._ ’ She hissed, astride her horse and indifferent. Home was the city, paved streets and neatly stacked houses. Home was the sea at her doorstep, the docks rumbling with new shipments from far off lands and travellers eager to catch a glimpse of her brother; The King.

Grady territory was wet. Damp with fresh rain and dew from the trees. She had never seen so much green free roaming without interruption of a garden bed or stone pavers. This was wilderness, wild and unconfined. Claire would be lying if she didn’t admit that she adored it just a  _little_. It was beautiful in it’s rugged, wild and untouched way.

Grady men met them a day’s ride to the castle, trying to muster up good graces and to provide a loyal escort on the final hours of Claire’s journey. They were kind enough. Tall men with wide frames and grubby faces. They wore less than what her men did, a few not wearing shirts at all as their skin glistened in the sunlight. Most of them stank enough she did not want to get too close to them. Instead, Claire watched them, eyes boring into the back of their heads as they road ahead, leading the way as to not see their soon to be princess into the wrong hands of the villagers. Her brother told her there was nothing to fear in going to The Grady’s, they would treat her like she was more gold than they had ever seen. But, seeing the land stretch out before her, castle coming into view as the sun began to set, Claire couldn’t help but feel scared. She was sure her life was safe in the hands of these clearly capable men, they were taller and wider than that of Merrick’s guards. They would certainly be able to hold themselves in a fight. But, what if they turned on her?

Claire couldn’t help but think of her sister and the letters Karen would send. Things had been wonderful for her sister, at first, she was hesitant in her new home but her husband was friendly and willing to dote on her. It had been years since Karen left, so many changes in the leaves Claire needed both hands to count them on. Things had changed between Karen and Scott. She promised he didn’t hurt her, they had just managed to grow distant, her husband seeking out the beds of whores rather than the one Karen had warmed and filled with two sons.

It was bound to happen. The Grady’s would grow bored of her straight shoulders and tight corsets. It didn’t take Claire much to notice she was entering a vastly different world, wet heat pressing down on her as the humidity grew denser closer to the castle walls. She would not last long there unless she could make it work.

Her new home was large, spreading wider than she could see. It was an old fortress from the days of the old wars, from a time when The Grady’s preferred to live as primitive barbarians, smashing skulls together and scavenging for shelter. They had come a long way and Claire had not failed to notice. She could not recall who held the claim of this place before The Grady’s stepped in.

She couldn’t think about how many hands the old stone changed as they approached, horses hooves clipping against the dirt roads. They slowed, men on horses in front of her dismounting as they approached. A small welcoming party had gathered, mostly staff by the looks of things greeting Claire with eager smiles as one stepped forward to help her from her horse. They were excitable, women mostly, with bright grins and hushed voices behind hands.

‘Excuse us, Lady Claire, it has been too long since we last had a woman to serve.’ The eldest stepped forward, a middle-aged woman with greying hair and soft features. Next to Grady reared men, the women seemed just as commanding, Claire felt small surrounded by the. They were thick boned creatures with wide hips and kind smiles. They weren’t like the women of the city, their clothes dark, hair curled into buns and braids on their heads up and away from their necks.

From memory, Claire couldn’t recall Theon Grady having daughters. She couldn’t even remember what had happened to his wife. So far as her father was concerned, Claire did not need to bother herself with Grady history. It would have done her good now to know exactly which paths this family walked; a family she was about to become a part of.

‘Where is he?’ She asked, trying to keep the scoff out of her voice as Claire looked upon the faces in the courtyard. There was no man there, none that seemed fitting to be a King in Waiting. The woman who spoke smiled softly, introducing herself softly as Mae as she curtsied for Claire and her handmaid Zara.

‘He’s away, my lady. But, don’t you stress. Lord Owen will be back in time for your wedding.’

‘You’re telling me he’s not here?’ She asked, trying to keep her composure. It would be no use if she showed herself to them as a spoilt little child upon first meeting. They wouldn’t take her seriously after that. It would be an assassination of her character and an unjust portrayal of her true self. To be perfectly honest, Claire was hot, sticky heat making her skin sweat and her hair frizz. Her clothes felt heavier than they had ever felt before and her limbs drooped. The journey had taken her energy and now the weather was taking the last of her strength. She was impatient to meet the Grady son she would marry, her brother promising it wouldn’t be Old Man Theon, still clutching his place on his Eastbound throne.

She felt she had every right to be infuriated that her future husband could not be back in time to greet her. They were supposed to have several days to get to know each other before their hands were tied in marriage. Claire had  _hoped_  they would come to know and  _like_  each other before their wedding night and what was expected after.  _Owen_  was already setting himself off on the wrong foot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s dark and rainy today. My favourite kind of weather. I’m feeling generous. You’ve all come to the table on this so ecstatically too, I felt it was only fair you got to meet Owen ahead of schedule.
> 
> I forgot to mention earlier but as always thank you to @mrsquill for always lending me her eyes and promising that an idea will work. She’s the first person I run things by and she gives me her time for free. Huge thanks to @dwayne-cirocjohnson for letting me rant at her about things not working. She helped me understand you guys were going to love this and assisted in fixing the end of this chapter to make it less problematic™ than what it was.

 

‘No!’ His voice boomed, crawling to all corners of his father’s war room as Theon Grady sat before him, plan laid out on the table. ‘I have already married for you father, I will not do it again.’

‘You forget that Margot was your choice, son.’ His father reprimanded, not shy to tell his son all that marriage provided was another burial plot in the crypt. ‘This time it is mine and you  _will_  obey. I expect heirs, Owen, grandsons with my blood, firstborns to carry on the name long after I pass and proceeding your own death. If you can’t do this, I will happily hand Grey Castle to your cousin and the title of Lord and King with it.’ There was no doubt there that Theon would overrule his own son’s rightful claim. Never had he threatened it before but being raised by a harsh man only let his son know that every word was intended as serious and would be followed through unless stopped.

He did not want to marry. Not again. Not ever. Owen had done his part in the world to make a woman happy for her days, it was out of his control that hers was a short life. His father was the last to care for what Owen wanted.

‘Do what you want, father. You’re going to do it anyway.’ He felt like a teenager, huffing at his father, desperate to head outside and kick his boots against the dirt before driving his sword into something that would bleed. He was right. His father would arrange a marriage regardless of Owen’s reaction. Theon had already made arrangements, the girl was on her way. ‘I don’t even get to meet her first?’ Owen rolled his eyes. ‘What if I can’t love her?’ He was not below being a little vain, slightly mortified at the thought of his new bride being a horrid sight. Why else would his father try to marry him off after he had been an avid contender of never doing it again? Owen thought Theon understood. He did not need a wife to be King in his father’s place.

‘Nonsense, everyone in the Four Kingdom’s knows the Dearing girl is a beauty. Those Dearing’s may not be strong, but they do know how to make a girl pretty. You don’t need  _love._ ’ Owen felt his heart sink, feeling sliding down into his stomach as he watched his father recline in his chair. ‘I trust, Owen, that you will get that girl pregnant by any means necessary and  _quickly_  if you want to see your future here.’ His father waited for a beat. ‘I suspect, with a Dearing child in our midsts that we Grady’s will finally have a chance to climb the right ladders.’

‘Are you suggesting you want to overthrow The Keepers of the Kingdom?’ Owen asked shoulders rolled back as he glared at his father. It was a ridiculous task, the Dearing’s had held that position for a millennia. Owen wanted to argue that it was their rightful place and they had never been overthrown but his memory got a little foggy. Men had tried to take the crown, one by one they failed.

Theon grinned, a sickening smile spreading across his face. ‘What other use is that girl to us? She can fuck you but — and I know — you won’t share her with the others.’ Owen bristled. ‘She’ll be thanking you when you make her Queen of her family castle. Without us, that girl will be nothing.’  

His fingers twitched against the hilt of his sword. Owen couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to curse at his father without lashing out completely. Claire Dearing’s name had passed his ears on a few occasions, only because she had been a princess. She was just a Lady now, her connection to the throne the third in her families line, leaving a tragic mass murder to happen before she could call for any claim. Even then, she was a woman, they weren’t going to hand it to her so easily. He didn’t care who she was. It didn’t make him want to marry any more than it had when he didn’t know her name. She had been a princess, she still lived in the palace. Life at Grey Castle was bound to be  _worlds_  different to what she was used to and he wasn’t prepared to listen to her whining.

Without a word to his father, Owen organised a hunting trip for as long as he could possibly orchestrate, setting out within hours of the news. His wife was due to arrive in three weeks, the poor girl already halfway through her journey before his father decided to make her pending arrival known. It was a smart move, left Owen with little room to protest.

There had been bandits spotted in old ruins, they held potential enough to let out Owen’s steam for a few days before his father expected him back to marry a girl he had never met.

[…]

He got sidetracked.

Owen had  _intended_ to be on time but if his territorial nature was being called into play concerning ruffians and his  _property._  Owen wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass him to show them no mercy. He had hunted with his men for a week, chasing bears and boars in the woods, wolves by his side before they sought out the bandits in the ruins. Another group had brought themselves to his attention when Owen decided to head for home. He had just been looking for a fight. Usually, Owen would wait until the threat started to bother him. But, he had a great need for his sword slicing through flesh despite already accomplishing that on the hunt.

The closer he got to the castle, the more he realised he was late. His mother had raised him to be better than that; always on time and always clean. Owen was neither, people had already flooded into his home to attend a wedding he hadn’t even arrived for and even he could smell the stench seeping from his skin through his pelts.

The Dearing girl was going to think him filthy and incredibly rude. He had wanted to be back the night before, just to see her face and calm his own nerves before they were forced through an afternoon of ceremony followed by an expected night of consummating their new marriage. She would want a jousting pole between them. He didn’t even think they had such a thing on hand anywhere in the castle grounds.

‘There you are!’ It was Mae, her warm face scowling at him but unable to hide her relief. ‘Where in the Gods have you been!’ She yelled, squeezing his arms as Owen wrapped the woman in a hug. Mae had been there long before he was born, the woman his second mother.

‘He couldn’t have just delayed the wedding by a day?’ He asked when Mae warned that his father was willing to humiliate Lady Claire if Owen didn’t show up. She shook her head, stepping back with a foul grimace as she complained of his smell. Owen shrugged, ‘I had things to see to. Don’t suppose I have time to clean up?’ He asked, smirking at her softly as Mae only glared. There was no way he was even going to have time to change his clothes let alone clean his face nor the rest of him. ‘How is she?’ He asked Mae without using her name.

‘She’s young.’ The woman offered. ‘Not too young though, celebrated her nineteenth birthday on the journey here. Poor girl, her own father didn’t come with her. Just her handmaid and a few men she didn’t know all that personally. I would like to arrange something for her birthday a few weeks after the wedding if that’s alright? Make her feel at home.’ Owen shrugged, Mae could do as she pleased, he wouldn’t stop her. ‘She hates it here.’ He shrugged again. That was a given. ‘She thinks you very rude to not have been here when she arrived, but I think that was her nerves talking.’ Owen grumbled, feeling the vibration in his chest as his eyes closed, tension pooling in his temples already. ‘She is going to think you far more than rude for not arriving at your wedding on time.’ Mae scolded, clicking her tongue as she tried to hurry him towards the south side of the castle. ’I think you’ll like her, the girl seems to have a similar spirit to Margot.’

That was the last thing he wanted to hear. Owen didn’t even want to marry the girl and now his oldest confidant was sure he was going to like her. She was too young for his tastes, there were only four years between them but Owen felt the match wasn’t right.

‘Well, I better go marry her then. How do I look?’ He asked, not caring for her answer as Mae bit her lip. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him he had blood on his face.

He followed the last stragglers of guests towards the man hall with a shove from Mae, letting them file in for a moment before he yanked the doors open and stormed into the room. He was late. She was already at the altar dressed in ivory and sky blue, hair burning in flames on her head. She turned to him with wide blue eyes, mouth pursed open despite herself as he hit heavy steps down the aisle completely forgetting that his four large wolves had not been dismissed from his side in his late haste.

Owen faltered. Physically stopped the second their eyes met. Claire Dearing caught him completely off guard. There was something in the glowing depths of her blue eyes, even across the room, that settled the angry rage bubbling deep in the back of his thoughts. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to marry her but before this second he had only been thinking of himself. There was a flawless creature standing in front of him, doe-eyed and young, looking to him to entrust her life. Within the hour she would be his wife, the two of them tied together until death parted them.

She looked furious at his commotion. Disgraced and disgusted that someone would burst into the great hall and cause issue out of something she didn’t want. He could see she was scared, pissed off but unsure if she would properly be allowed to show it. Owen had heard rumours of wives murdered on their wedding day because they chose to voice an angry word against their arranged union. She was a smart girl, her family renowned for their intelligence. She wouldn’t say a word.

He could see, in the press of her lips, flatlined and smooth, corners curling in a sneer, that she didn’t want this. Just as much as he didn’t want to be walking into that room, she didn’t want him too. He cursed himself internally for not arriving earlier, not getting a chance to ease her irritations. He wanted to like this girl. They had no choice on that matter. It was marry and produce children, or they could both lose their lives. His father wasn’t joking on that remark.

If Owen could save her from this life he would drag her out of that room and do as much. But, she was a Dearing and people would notice that she had fled.

He couldn’t get close to this. The more he acknowledged that her heart was breaking, the harder it would be when his father eventually got tired of them both. He couldn’t let Theon use her as a weapon against him. He couldn’t fall in love with this girl and lose her like Margot was lost. It would be the final straw in destroying him.

Regardless, Owen felt himself slipping. Heart crumbling into a mess at his feet due to the fire in her eyes. He was weak for strong-willed women and their stubborn glares, a lady in training, in body but not in spirit. He wanted to see her riding horses, hunting at his side, curled in a ball with his wolves by the lake and her hands grubby from the garden.

Owen offered her a guilty smile when he finally managed to find his legs again, meeting her at the altar where the priest was waiting to marry them. ‘Sorry I was late.’ He told her with a genuine shrug, guilt sliding into his belly. He couldn’t meet her eyes, the look there was too intense as she glared at him, trying to force a smile for the crowd of strangers watching them.  

She wanted to hiss ‘ _I hate you_ ’, he could see it pressed against her teeth, mouth twitching. Owen wanted to reassure her, to promise he hated this as much as she did. He couldn’t find his voice. Instead, he took her hand a wordlessly turned to the priest.

[…]

Claire Dearing had a long list of reasons why she already hated Owen Grady. He was grubby, arrogant and smelt bad. She sat beside him at the bridal table, watching the man gorge himself on a feast made especially for them. She wondered if she could make him choke just by staring, maybe then she could go home. Claire only shook her head, Merrick would make her stay, instead choosing to marry her off to whoever was supposed to take his place. If Owen was this bad, she could barely imagine what his predecessor was like.

It was his wolves she hated most besides his terrible manners. The beasts were large and intimidating, growling at foreign bodies that got too close. She had been one until Owen hissed at them, trying to shake the animals loose of his shadow as they stood towards his kingdom and The Gods. They had refused to budge from his presence all day, lingering nearby in a pile of living pelts, growling every so often between snarls and snores. She understood why he kept  _beasts_  for pets, there was a certain benefit of security that came with them. That didn’t mean she liked it.

He ate with his hands despite everyone else around them using cutlery. He spilt wine down his already foul shirt and was radiating a musk from his skin that told her he hadn’t bathed in  _weeks_  let alone days. Worst of all, there was a thick line of blood stuck diagonally across his face like he had slit a man’s throat while facing him. She didn’t doubt that could have been the truth.

The fact that he took no charm in his appearance rattled her bones. There was no respect there. No want to dress up and play nice with her. He didn’t even try to hold a conversation, the only words he spoke came from the marriage ceremony. She heard him speak to the people around them, foreigners to her eyes bringing gifts to their table as Owen flashed them smiles and thanked them gracefully. He didn’t turn words towards her, only put his lips to his goblet and greedily emptied it before shouting for a refill.

She wanted to get up and dance, to move about the open space between the tables like some of the women already were. She didn’t want to displease her husband and a stubborn streak wedged firmly in her spine refused to let her get up unless he asked her first. She knew not all royal men were  _gentlemen_  but she did expect her husband to know that it was  _tradition_  to dance with his wife at least once before retiring for the night.

He was young, only a few years older than Claire herself, there was plenty of night stretched before them. Owen was sure to ask her to dance at some point before they were expected to consummate their vows.

Claire couldn’t help but feel timid beside him. Her voice was gone, replaced with anger flaring in her belly as she tried to constrain the scowl on her face. She startled when his large hand swallowed hers, Owen pushing his chair back with a loud racket as he moved to stand. Claire had no choice but to follow, his grip tight as her dress shifted around her legs. She knew what was coming, she had known about it for years. She saw the impatient glare in her father-in-law's eyes. There wasn’t a moment in her life that hadn’t alluded to this. Even at nineteen she wasn’t properly considered a woman until her husband had taken her virtue.

Karen had giggled about it when they were girls. Eavesdropping on other women as they talked about their marital beds. It was all a game to her sister, something that proved she was no longer a child but left her giggling and bright red in the cheeks. Claire thought it was ridiculous. Her brothers had lured unsuspecting handmaids and kitchen hands into beds, against walls and within bales of hay. There was no worry of their virginity, only the want for a quick  _fuck_  to let off steam. They had been doing it since they were teens whilst Karen and Claire were to be properly clothed and untouched. She wanted to do as her brother’s had done, sweet talking one of the guards sons or the stable hand into relieving her of such a burden. It was the anticipation she hated, the unknowing, and the fact that it lay in the hands of a man she didn’t know. Claire was convinced it was a made up  _thing_  just for men to hold more power over their soon to be wives. They were jealous creatures at heart, greedy and possessive, they wanted comfort in knowing their wives hadn’t been touched before their fingers graced her skin.

Despite her opinions on the matter, Claire couldn’t help the anxiety that bubbled in the pit of her stomach, making her drag her feet as Owen pulled her away from the wedding celebrations. She had never wanted to be in a crowd of people she didn’t know so badly before. Claire did not want to be alone with him. She did not want to be in that room with others watching, a curtain separating them. Her eyes caught Zara’s as he pulled her into an empty hallway, Claire silently calling to her friend for help. Her handmaid didn’t move. There was no use, no one could interfere. The only person that could stop this from happening was her new husband and Claire had no doubt that he wouldn’t.

She had been all for seducing boys, tricking them into sleeping with her if she knew her father wouldn’t be furious. But this, this was out of her hands. She didn’t want it, didn’t agree despite their marriage. She only knew his name and that he was polite to others and not her. Claire wasn’t even sure he looked at her properly. It was impersonal in a way that made Claire feel uncomfortable. She was sure if given time, she and Owen could make something good out of their forced situation but he wasn’t giving her time.

He let go of her when they reached their shared chambers, Claire moving herself to the middle of the room, unsure of what he expected of her. The door shut heavily, thud rattling through her bones. She jumped at the sound, trying to keep herself centred in the middle of the room. Her back was to him, eyes closed as she strained her ears to  _hear_  where he was rather than turning to look at him. Her senses were thrown off, mind and body aware of the other two men in the room, Theon and Masrani, a representative from the Dearing household there to ensure the marriage went smoothly. They had to consummate the ceremony and it had to be witnessed, failure to do so would only end with their heads on the line. There was something in the bitter set of Theon Grady’s jaw that told Claire he was not to be messed with. The man wouldn’t hesitate in punishing her if she so much as tried to delay her union with his son. She tried her best to ignore him.    

Owen was breathing heavy, fabric of his clothes rustling loudly as he moved from the door to her side. He was warm, heat as thick as the tropical weather outside. His touch was rough on her hip, fingers squeezing before he trailed it up the curve of her spine. She felt a shake there, hesitation in his touch as his fingers rattled against her firm form. He did not want to do this as much as she did, his hands shaking against her hip as expectant eyes watched on. Even though she could not see him, her father-in-law’s glare set chills across her skin as Claire squeezed her eyes closed and willed herself not to cry. Owen tugged at the strings of her dress with great force, fingers threaded through the small straps that kept her inside it. She held tight to a sob that threatened to break with the sharp sound of her dress tearing, body jolting with Owen’s strength. Instead, she squeezed her eyes tighter and tried to level her breathing. She did not focus on the heat of his hands or the way his touch burnt her skin. She tried to block out the fact that he was there all together, that he hadn’t even spoken to her before he decided it was the right time to make her  _his_. She didn’t even know him beyond glaring at the side of his face all night.

His hands were back on her hips, turning her body gently as she came to face him. It was his knuckle under her chin that encouraged Claire to open her eyes, lashes fluttering as she met his green gaze. ‘I'm so sorry, Claire.’ He uttered, voice quiet as she felt her breath catch. He was walking her backwards, each tentative step drawing them closer to the bed as his hands lifted her effortlessly onto the mattress, body tangling in the curtains until they found their way. 'I don’t want to hurt you.’ He insisted, hand back on her face. She needed to work with him, to focus on him, to drown out the presence of the other men and the circumstances that surrounded him.

Claire nodded easily, still timid as she closed her eyes again, thoughts caught on wrapping her hands around her brother’s neck and watching his face turn blue.

If it wasn’t treason, she would plot to kill Merrick for this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Impatient is my middle name. 
> 
> I want to once again, thank everyone who came to the party on this fic and have given me their trust. I promise I am trying really hard to do it justice!

 

Claire had yet to hold a conversation with Theon Grady. She was thankful for that. The older man made her skin cold and her heart stop pumping.

One could imagine her reaction of shock when he cornered her in a quiet hallway of Grey Castle.

She could hardly breathe as she locked eyes with her new husband’s father, intimidated but too proud to look away. He smiled, sly grin growing up his face as he stepped too close for Claire’s liking. ‘You really are a beautiful girl.’ Theon commented the foul stench of his breath ghosting over her face as he reached old fingers out to touch her hair. Claire tried not to flinch, to pull away as she felt her back hit the cool brick of the wall. ‘I’ve been hearing that you and my son have not been spending much time together.’ Claire only swallowed, unsure if she should answer him or not. It was true, she avoided Owen at all coasts, body still stinging from their wedding night. ‘I don’t think he has made you aware of the circumstances of your union.’ Theon began, a sickening smile growing larger. ‘If you do not provide this family with a son and soon, both you and Owen will be out on the streets. Neither of you will continue to hold claim to Castle Grey and your pretty little face will have to be put to use elsewhere. Who knows, I might even kill my own son. Gods know that boy has irked me for decades. But, you, my dear, what a waste of a pretty girl. Maybe I should have saved you for myself. Let you warm the bed of my men when they feel like it, too.’ His hand was under her chin, thick fingers wet as he leaned in a little closer. Claire squeezed her eyes closed, whole body tense as she tried to brace herself for the kiss her  _King_  was bound to force on her lips.

‘M’lady, there you are!’ It was Mae’s voice at the other end of the hall, the sound of her putting space between Theon and Claire as he stepped back, loud voice greeting one of his staff.

‘Ah, yes, Mae, I was just telling this girl she was going to get herself lost.’ He lied. ‘I’m sure her husband has stressed the importance of not wandering the halls alone.’ He nodded towards Mae, then Claire who had opened her eyes with the absence of his close proximity, before turning away and leaving her side.

Mae rushed over as soon as Theon was out of sight, her hands cupping Claire’s face and checking the girl over. ‘Did he hurt you?’ Claire shook her head. ‘What did he want?’ Claire stepped back, righting herself as her hands smoothed over her dress, shoulders straightening as she raised her head high.

‘He just wanted to threaten me.’ Claire shook out her arms, trying to bring warmth to her skin as she chased away the shiver in her spine. ‘Promised if I’m not with child soon he’ll whore me out to his men and kill Owen.’ She whispered, shivering as her eyes looked at the wall. She wasn’t ready for this, to be the foreign body in a world she couldn’t control. If she was home, the Citadel walls around her, she would have told Theon Grady exactly what she thought of him and his ideas. Claire fluffed at her skirts, lips pursed as she turned back to Mae. ‘There is nothing I would like more than to be a man in this world, Mae, free to give commands and listen to no one. I am sick of  _men_  thinking I am a  _thing_ to be shoved around and positioned.’ She huffed, ‘Theon has something else coming if he thinks threatening me is the right way to conduct my compliance.’

‘Be careful of that one, Lady Claire.’ Mae warmed, leaning close to the woman’s side as she wrapped her arm around Claires. ‘He is not to be trusted. Theon can be an unforgiving king and I would hate to see what he would do if you displeased him. Margot did not end well, you should heed that as a warning.’ She seemed to tug Claire a little harder, steps quickening as her head dropped like she had said too much.

‘Margot?’ Mae pretended like she didn’t hear, trying to distract Claire as her fingers fiddled with the ties on her wrist. ‘Who was Margot?’

‘Your husband’s first wife.’ Mae told her innocently. ‘The king did not approve. I — please, Lady Claire, be careful of who you speak with and who you annoy.’ She grasped Claire’s fingers tightly, raising her head to meet her mistress’ eyes. ‘I don’t want you getting into trouble, M’Lady. Prince Owen —‘

‘Lord.’ Claire corrected. Their formal title was that of  _Prince_  and  _Princess_ of Castle Grey but Owen preferred  _Lord_  just as Claire preferred  _Lady_.

‘He won’t cope if it happens again. That boy is pure of heart who suffers loss dramatically. Know that your actions reflect on him as well. He is on your side in regards to his father. If the king tries anything untoward, your husband is one of very few who will stand by you.’ Mae warned, stopping in the hallway to meet Claire face on, hands squeezing hers. She needed to make sure the young woman understood that her husband would do  _anything_  if his father stepped out of line. She wasn’t blind to what was going on between Owen and Claire, they barely spoke let alone looked at each other but Mae had complete faith Owen would do what he needed to keep her safe. He had told her as much, confiding in the older woman that he didn’t know what to say around Claire, guilty that she was in this situation and that he hurt her.

She knew The King’s threats were real. Had no doubt that the older man would act on a bitter hurt that saw him hate on his son from a young age. Owen would die if Theon wasn’t pleased, his father had given up on waiting for him to parry and produce heirs. He wanted solid fact that his castle would remain within the family name. If Owen could not do that, and Theon was sure he couldn’t then the boy could find an early grave. Regardless, Mae warned of the impact Claire’s loss would be on her husband. He might not have been in love with her yet, but he never did well knowing he had innocent blood on his hands. He would not recover. Would never forgive himself long after he started walking the afterlife with The Gods.  

‘Now, come. I have something to show you.’ Mae tried to turn the conversation cheerful as she pulled on Claire’s arm again.  

The staff in Castle Grey had her best interests at heart. Claire had no doubt that they would willingly drop everything for her not only because she was their Lady but because they genuinely wished to do so.

Unlike the men she had encountered on the grounds, the women were kind and gentle. They giggled about their Lord, missing the way Claire avoided them, unwilling to participate in their gossip even when one found the courage to approach her. She had seen him on the grounds with his wolves and his horses and in the great hall with his father, listening to the pleas of their villagers, granting wishes where they could. Mostly, Owen — her husband — avoided her. He came to bed when he thought she was asleep, curling himself on the sofa bed rather than tucking himself by her side. He was gone before she woke, furniture still warm from his sleep.

She wanted to tell the women their Lord wasn’t as great as they thought he was. They spoke of a kind and gentle nature but Claire hadn’t seen it. She thought they were deluded for calling him such gentle things, kind, brave and wholesome. Some even went so far as to giggle that they were jealous she was his wife. Claire only scoffed. She didn’t know the faintest thing about the man that she could call  _real_ fact because he never took the time to key her into his life.

He hadn't touched her again since that night, barely managed to look in her direction as he sulked between the shadows. She wanted to believe that he genuinely was a kind man like his staff had promised in whispers. Claire swore she saw it, heard it in his voice when tried to qualm the anxiety twitching in her fingers on their wedding night. But, that man had not returned and the last words he spoke to her remained as a quiet ‘are you okay?’ when they were done and the room was cleared. She had nodded, pulling into herself and asking quietly if she could sleep. He had allowed her that, his body remaining beside hers for a few minutes more before he pulled himself up and settled himself down somewhere else in the room.

‘What are you going to show me?’ Claire asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Mae shook her head, claiming that she had promised Owen she wouldn’t tell. ‘Oh please, Mae, don’t make me see him.’ She grabbed the woman’s arm with a fearful grip, stopping them both in their tracks. ‘I don’t think I could bare it. Not today.’ She couldn’t deal with two Grady men taking power over her head.

Mae smiled sadly. ‘He doesn’t want to hurt you, m’lady.’ She squeezed Claire’s hand. ‘I promise, he feels terrible after your wedding night.’

Claire shook her head. ‘No. I won’t accept that. He needs to speak with me, Mae. He can’t just pass these things through you.’

Mae nodded, the two of them starting to walk again. ‘It’s just a celebration,’ she told her, giving into her secret. ‘For your birthday. Owen didn’t like the idea that you celebrated on the road.’ In truth, it hadn’t been his idea at all but Mae had bullied him into it, persisting that the young man did something kind for his new wife. ‘There are people waiting. You won’t be alone.’ She reassured. ‘M’lady, I know you might not like to think about it. But, you need to be alone with him sometimes. It is what the married do and as much as I would like to secure your place here the only thing that is going to do that is a child.’    

She hated to admit what she was being told. Claire just needed to find comfort. She wanted to be able to rely on Owen the way a wife should rely on her husband but they were struggling to find common ground. She only saw him at dinner, sitting beside him in the hall before he would disappear again. Occasionally, when she woke in the night she spotted his form tangled into a small piece of furniture.

Claire just wanted him to talk to her. To get to know her and perhaps want to engage in their marital duties as husband and wife because he  _wanted_  to and not that it was a must.

‘You have to meet in the middle.’ Mae offered and Claire refused to accept it.

They rounded the corner, the noise suddenly gracing her ears as Mae led Claire into the musky courtyard. It was hot outside, it was always hot Claire was starting to learn, her skin perspiring immediately as she looked out among the guests that had arrived for her.

‘Happy birthday, dear.’ Mae explained again as if Claire had forgotten, squeezing Claire’s arms as she watched the wonder slip across the woman’s face. ‘Owen is over there. Maybe you can extend the first branch.’ She nodded towards the man only a few feet away, his eyes on Claire as they stepped outside. She didn’t want to be the one to speak to him first, not on principle. Her father had taught her not to waste her time with those who did not want to engage in conversation. Her father, she was continuing to learn the longer she was away from home, was wrong. ‘He can seem cruel, Lady Claire, but he has a gentle heart.’ The older woman reminded her. Mae was the only one Claire  _wanted_  to believe. The woman had known Owen long before he had been conceived. Amongst all opinions, it was Mae’s Claire was trying to accept. ‘That boy will give you the world if you give him some time.’ Mae promised, whispering as her shoulder brushed Claire’s, a small smile forming on her lips.

Mae disappeared, muttering about things to do as she nudged Claire towards Owen. The girl followed suit, feet carrying her towards his side. ‘This is very different to what I am used to.’ She hummed, not meeting his eyes as they stood shoulder to shoulder. Perhaps it was the people, all faces she didn’t recognise, smiling softly in her direction and wishing her a happy celebration. She nodded at each, thankful for the recognition.

Owen signed beside her. ‘Get used to it.’ His words were gruff, impatient and irritated.

Claire shook her head. ‘That’s not what I meant …’ she stumbled, trying to prove to him that she wasn’t the spoilt princess he thought she was. Mae had told her that he was scared of losing another wife, that under his rugged exterior was actually a fragile man who cared too much. She was trying to give him a chance. ‘I, just, it’s  _sweet_  that so many are willing to do this for me. I don’t yet know any of your subjects and only a handful of staff.’ She was eyeing the table of gifts; something she didn’t expect so soon after their wedding day.

‘You are their queen.’ He pushed a goblet into her hand, the smell of wine ripe under her nose as he encouraged Claire to lift it to her lips. Something coiled in her belly, elation or joy, she couldn’t decide which. At home, she was a princess until her brother took the throne, their father passing it down in retirement rather than death. She had not considered that she was more than a  _lady_  in Castle Grey. A queen in waiting was better than forever being a princess.

Each of the four kingdoms had their kings and queens, she had moved from one house to the other leaving her family blood spread between two kingdoms. That’s why she was here. To spread the Dearing blood, merging it between households. Her brothers were to carry on the name and she was there to ensure the greatest of fighters would one day realise their houses were originally one. That was why Theon considered the clock of her life to be dwindling. Even she could understand he wanted a piece of her family in his hands or nothing else. If Claire couldn’t provide it — wouldn’t — she was useless to him.

‘Enjoy yourself.’ He told her with a kind smile, grinning as she swallowed the wine, pink already rising on her cheeks. She had been flushed since she arrived, warm weather crawling into her skin but this was something else. Claire had not drunk wine before, her father claimed it had no use for a young lady as precious as his daughter. She stayed away, tempted to try but never finding the opportunity. Even on her wedding night, she had stayed away from the mead and wine, continuing to drink the water Zara managed to fetch for her.

The sour taste swirled on her tongue, making Claire cringe as Owen laughed. ‘That’s disgusting.’ She told him, rolling her tongue over her lips to rid herself of the taste. He watched her, wide green eyes not quite sure of what he was seeing as the young woman, with her gentle freckles, endeared him not for the first time since they met.

‘That is our finest wine.’ He told her, a little insulted as she took another gulp from her goblet, greedily swallowing it despite her opinion on the taste. ‘You’ll find it’s the best in The Four Kingdoms.’

Claire shook her head, ‘I can’t say I have much to compare it with. My wine experience is only just beginning.’ Her smile grew wider, something shining in her eyes as Owen took a step towards her, closing in their space as he watched her with an awe-filled smile. She really was a wonder to him. He was trying to deny it; to himself, to Mae, to his father who consistently told him to get over the grudge he was harbouring and just move on.

Claire Dearing was one of the most beautiful young women he had ever seen. She was smaller than he was in weight and height, but something told him she could be just as strong. He hadn’t seen it in full bloom, but the man had been promised she had an attitude as bright and hot as the colour of her hair and she was known for pulling it out when she didn’t get her way. He had only seen her as vulnerable and he hated that he did that to her. Once was more than enough. He should have spoken to her first, asked but he had been filled with a melancholic rage that stopped him from seeing straight. He needed to apologise, mouth open to let the words out when she giggled, shoulder pressing into his side as she leant against him. It was her birthday celebration, he couldn’t bring up the first time he made her cry, not when she seemed so joyful.

She liked the wine, goblet filling over and over until Owen cut her off, Claire clinging to his side all afternoon as she laughed at the entertainment Mae had organised on his behalf. Claire thought everything was funny with a little wine in her. For every drink she finished he matched with an empty goblet of his own. She stopped long before he had, wine new to her belly as her cheeks turned the most brilliant shade of rose and her freckles flared on her cheeks. She clung to his side like a lovelorn child, arm wrapped around his until she begged him to dance.

He did not want to dance.

‘Do you detest me?’ She asked, standing in front of him, frown firmly in place.

Owen mirrored the look. ‘No?’ She just stared at him, balance wobbling thanks to the drink in her system. ‘Claire, it’s not you. I just — I like to be alone.’ She could see it in him, a want to be away from the walls of the castle, left to his own devices and unbothered. Claire was sure if Theon had bothered to ask that Owen would have renounced his birthright if it meant being left to conduct his own time. Claire would never renounce the title that was now hers, not for any man.

‘You’re never going to be alone.’ She told him with a tug on his hand, dragging the man out onto the grass. Claire knew she would not have been able to move him if he did not want to be moved. He was giving into her and she liked how that made her feel.

There was a giddiness bubbling in her stomach, pulling a smile across her lips as he let her lead them in dance. She had not realised how tall he was until they were pressed together, hips almost touching as hey moved in an unspoken step. He almost towered over her as his hand sat steady against her hip, the other holding hers cautiously. He looked at her with an intensity Claire had never known before. It was non-threatening, but she couldn’t put her finger on the exacts of it. He had a serious face, his gaze and the set of his mouth always concerned or caught in a very important thought. His eyes were the greenest she had ever seen, gentle if she dared to think that way. She should have considered herself lucky that her husband was young and good looking. It tugged at her chest; lucky, Claire was still trying to find meaning in that word and her new life.

‘I lost a wife.’ He told her softly, head bowed to reach her as his eyes focused on her face. So far as Claire knew, they were the only two people in the room. The music had seemingly stopped, the only thing registering to her was Owen. Claire nodded, she knew. ‘I don’t like being close to people.’ It was an awkward explanation, one that had Claire watching him closely.  

She took a step forward, her hand tight on his body as she pulled them flush with each other. ‘You’re close to me.’ Claire felt herself grin as Owen started down at her agape. She realised then, in that moment, she was the one in control. Claire held every move in her hands as her cheeks continued to burn red with wine. They had stopped dancing, barely swaying as her hand climbed up his chest between their bodies, fingers landing on the lapel of his shirt before she tugged him down to her height.  

This was her in to act like her brothers. Claire could be demanding, could take control of their situation and show him she wasn’t to be toyed with. In this instance, she could be the man, not that she believed Owen would let her get away with that for long.

Their lips met, teeth crashing together almost violently as Claire revelled in her strength and his willingness to be swayed by her. She didn’t hear the giggles from the ladies in attendance, just felt the scratch of Owen’s stubble against her cheek, and the pressure of his hands anchoring themselves to her hips. She was in control as she tugged tighter, pulling the man down further as her tongue slid into his mouth eliciting an animalistic grunt from his throat. Claire grinned, smile almost wolfish if she could have seen her reflection. He was clay in the palms of her hands, mouldable, willing to shift and change at the slightest pressure. Claire felt the girl slip away as the woman within her stepped forward. No longer would she be the timid little girl who arrived on Grady property a few weeks ago. She would not stand to be threatened, mistreated and ignored. With Owen leaning in, caught in  _her_  kiss and  _her_  whims Claire felt emboldened.

She pulled away from him, hands still holding onto his shirt as his mouth chased hers despite the distance. When he met her gaze, his eyes were clouded with lust, dark and lidded as he stared at her, lost. Claire felt her grin grow, sly like the fox as she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. Her hands let go of him, not before winding around the thick fingers on her hips. She pulled him again, this time by the hand and away from the party and towards their chambers.

The tap of the wolves followed them as Claire’s giggle bounced off the narrow castle walls. She was giddy in her step, hands still in his as their bodies bumped into each other. Owen followed her with a curious knit in his brow. He knew where she was going, he could feel the electricity in her fingertips and the intention in her kiss but he still felt hopeless, wine drunk and curious.

In their bedchambers, the door closed behind them and his wolves whimpering on the side, Claire dropped her dress. Without struggle, Claire managed to get the fabric loose without his knowledge or assistance, cotton and silk falling to the floor with an easy  _whoosh._ She stepped out of it, unbalanced, cheeks pink as she laughed. Her hands reached for him, Owen stepping into her space immediately, ready to be whatever she asked for. This was Claire’s arena and curiosity had him as an eager pawn.

Claire spent her whole life witnessing her brothers and their sexual explorations. She heard about the women they had lured into having sex with them and the next conquest on their lips. For as long as she could remember Claire wanted that freedom. She felt like it was sitting in the palm of her hands as she clicked her tongue at Owen, his fingers reaching out to touch her bare skin. She revealed in the startled look he gave her, hands inches from her body, holding back like he had been scorned. She smiled at him softly, taking his hands in hers with nimble fingers before she placed his on her skin. ‘I want to  _fuck_.’ She told him, word harsh on her tongue, repeating what she heard her brothers say time and time again. She wanted a redo of their wedding night where Claire was in control, no outside forces, just Owen and Claire on their own time.

Owen couldn’t hold himself back any longer, need encouraging him to close the gap between them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Owen learn to understand each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all encourage this weakness and I want to hold you accountable. Love you. But, for real guys, I need to get on a one a week basis.

There was nothing to do at Castle Grey. Claire kept to herself, taking initiative in the gardens as she buried her hands deep in the soil of flower beds. On days where it was too hot, the sun high in the sky, Claire cured her boredom in the library. She curled herself into a large armchair and disappeared into another world on the page. The Citadel held the largest library in The Four Kingdoms and yet Claire found herself pleasantly surprised in this modest space.

She started with a familiar text, something that made her feel safe and comfortable in her new home still filled with mysterious shadows.

The skies outside were sunny and bright as the thick air tried to suffocate her. Inside was cooler, especially between the rows of books and the dim lights. Zara left her to do laundry, trying desperately to find her niche as Claire did, amongst the other staff of the castle. Claire was sure she wouldn’t need her and in that allowed her friend to go, buying herself some spare time alone.

It was his wolves she spotted first, smaller of the four curling itself around the door as it padded into the room. If the animals were there, Owen wasn’t going to be far off. The creature stepped towards her, second slipping into place behind the first, both of them stalking down low. Claire pulled her legs tighter to her chest, glaring at the animals as she did so.

‘Shoo!’ She flicked her wrist towards them. ‘Go on, go away!’ They didn’t move, noses mere inches from her skin as a third came through the door. Owen followed with the fourth, Claire turning large blue eyes in his direction, seeking out help. ‘Tell them to leave me alone!’ She cried, voice shaking as her eyes jumped back to his beasts. Claire didn’t want to be scared; not of wolves. They were murderous beasts, harmful hunters with sharp eyes. She had not seen them in action but nevertheless, all she saw in them was blood dripping from their thick teeth.

Owen chuckled, the loud sound filling the room. ‘They won’t hurt you.’ He told her, smile fond as he looked at her, the woman practically a child curled in on herself.

‘I don’t care. I want them gone.’ Claire spat, trying to convey how much she didn't like them as Owen stepped around their bodies to seat himself in the chair beside hers.

‘Claire.’ She was starting to like the sound of her name on his lips. Her mind wandered back to her birthday, ears picking up on the faint way he sighed against her, Claire still in control as she rode him, on top with no assistance and only his hands on her hips encouraging a more torturous rhythm. ‘Here.’ She missed him leaning over the arm of his chair, hand reaching out to wrap around her wrist. ‘This is Blue.’ He pulled her hand towards the biggest of the wolves, creature bowing its head as her fingers made contact with fur so dark it was as blue as midnight. ‘Charlie,’ He moved her hand to the second wolf, dark brown. ‘Delta,’ The third was a patch between the others, splotches of black, brown and grey. ‘And Echo,’ He pulled her hand towards the head of the last wolf, the pelt grey as Owen let go of her hand, leaving her fingers threaded in the wolf’s fur. ‘They're my girls.’ He beamed proudly, her eyes pulling away from the creature to catch his wild smile. ‘They keep an eye out for me and as my wife, you are under their guard too.’ She felt her heart jump into her chest. ‘I want you to feel safe with them.’ Claire scoffed, unable to help the sound as insult flashed across his face and each of the animals lifted their heads to look at her.

‘I would feel a lot safer if they didn’t come so close to me.’ Owen made a noise in the back of his throat and the wolves retreated. They listened to command.

‘I’ve been told you haven’t bled in some time.’ Claire felt her skin flush, cheeks beating red hot as she dropped her eyes to her lap. She hadn’t in weeks, and that fact alone hadn’t escaped her notice. Zara was trying not to smile every time she looked at her, appearing each morning a little more hopeful than the last with each absent day of Claire’s period. She shook her head. ‘Do you feel any different?’ There was an interest in his voice, concern almost, that she couldn’t quite place. Like he cared but was too scared to admit it.

Claire shrugged, cheeks burning hotter. ‘I certainly do not  _feel_  pregnant.’ She told him, eyes jumping to his for a split second before tearing away. She wanted to be defiant, to smack him over the head and tell him to mind his own business. In fact, she wanted to find Mae and Zara to request they didn’t speak to him about whether or not she was bleeding. Everyone in the castle was anxious for news. This was why she was here. To marry the heir to the East throne and provide him with children. It was just a bonus that she was pretty enough to cause gossip just on her looks, beyond that, nothing else was discussed. They had been married for a few moons now, it was only going to be a matter of time before they knew. Claire just wished her personal business could be kept to herself and not shared with everyone at Castle Grey before she had time to come to terms with it. She thought, in marrying below her station, getting whisked off to Grady land that it would come with a little more privacy and less urgency. By all accounts, Claire was wrong.

Owen hummed, ‘Maybe not?’

‘It is possible. We have only been married three months.’ He nodded. Owen couldn’t remember the last time he heard anyone talk about babies. Not recently. Faintly, he could remember his first marriage and his grinning wife, the woman coming to him with words of a child mere weeks after their ceremony. They had lost it days after. Owen was desperate to not get his hopes up. Claire took it as disinterest. ‘I promise,’ she started, ‘When the time comes I will give you strong sons.’ He nodded easily, taking her word and strong conviction.

Claire felt she needed to say it. Felt like it would add to her worth and his kindness. She knew what was riding on this, for him, for the both of them. If she did not get pregnant and soon, with a male heir Owen risked losing everything, Claire too. She wondered if her father and brother knew that when they sent her away. Surely, they would not have pushed her into the arms of someone whose stakes were so high. Owen was still hesitant with her, to the point that Claire worried he saw no worth in her. She wondered if he would have preferred to die at the hand of his father than live eternity with Claire Dearing.

‘My sister —‘ She started, watching Owen rise from his chair, not quite ready to lose the company. ‘—Karen, she lives in the West. She gave her husband two sons. I hear they are beautiful boys that are already making great lords.’ The oldest was no younger than eight by now, but already, her sister had shared in letters that he was taking on his lessons and duties with a fine commanding spirit.

Owen smiled, amusement small on his cheeks. ‘No offence, but Dearing men are not known for their strength.’ He told her, dismissing Claire once again as he stood, his back to her as his wolves looked for a command.

‘Our sons will not be Dearing men. They will be yours,  _Gradys_ , the strongest in The Four Kingdoms. Your seed in my womb will bring the world the most powerful leaders it has ever seen. With them, you could see your house overruling my family, The Grady’s could become The Keepers of the Kingdom within a generation.’ She stood, urging him to believe her as the wet nose of one of his wolves tapped at her hand. Claire didn’t know what compelled her to impress him so much, desperate for the man to see her worth as to not so readily discard her. They were already married, she did not need to do this bargain plea. She did not know what Merrick promised Theon in their trade, but she needed to make her worth known to her husband. She wanted to have his sons to save her own life. ‘We need this.’ She told him with a quiet whimper so small he might not have heard her.

She did not want him giving up on the fight.

Owen turned, facing her full-bodied, wolf pelt sitting strong and wide on his shoulders as he stared at her with hollow green eyes. ‘I don’t want you to be miserable.’ He told her with the most care she had seen pour out of him since they met. It rivalled their wedding night. Claire nodded. ‘Get out of this room, go do something, be busy. I don’t care what it is, I just don’t want to know that you’re moping.’ She didn’t know how to tell him it was too hot for anything else and she certainly had not been moping.

There were a few choice activities she wanted to partake in but was unsure how accepted it would be now that she was away from the support of her home. ‘I want to help with the civil court.’ Claire spoke before Owen left the room. ‘I want to help.’ She had sat and paid witness to the weekly and sometimes daily opening of the court where those who belonged to Grady land could air their grievances, ask for assistance or warn their Lords of what could potentially be a threat inside their territory. Owen took the place of his father on the throne for court and often went out first hand to deal with any issues that had arisen. Claire wanted to take his place or at least be allowed to sit with him and offer her assistance. ‘I can be kind  _and_  cruel. Let this be a way for your people to get to know their lady?’ She asked, eyes hopeful as he stared at her.

Owen shrugged, face soft. ‘I will see what I can do. Father has never had a woman hold court before.’ She couldn’t forget that this was still his father’s castle and until the man was dead it would remain that way. In time, if she gave Owen children — and she was certainly praying that she could — it would become theirs. ‘Is there anything else?’ He asked her, waiting for his permission to leave.

‘I would like to get to know you better, My Lord.’ Claire offered, feeling a little hopeless. They spoke on occasion. Nonsense little things, nothing about their selves. They had sex, Owen adoring the spitfire woman who took command in their chambers. She knew nothing of him. ‘We are married and yet I do not know the faintest thing about you other than your wine is horrible and you assure me your beasts are tame.’ His smile was wide, splitting up his face as he chuckled, nodding at her softly.

‘Anything, My Lady.’

[…]

He chose to walk, leading Claire out of the library and back to the castle grounds.

‘Don’t you have any brothers?’ She asked, walking beside him as a wayward breeze caught her hair. Owen decided he liked it out there, with her, the wolves playing in the grass a few feet away.

Owen shook his head. ‘I had a sister.’ The tense was not lost on Claire. ‘She died when she was a girl. She was a sick little thing, had a terrible fall and her poor body couldn’t heal itself.’ He paused, eyes caught in the line of trees over Claire’s head. Her hand found him gently, fingers gracing his palm and pulling back before she committed to holding on. ‘My parents married late and they struggled to conceive. It has been a source of great anguish for my father and why he never remarried. He’s too afraid to find out it was his fault and not Ma.’

‘What happened to your mother?’ She pried gently, hand squeezing his. He promised to let her in, to share his life with her but he didn’t need to divulge everything immediately.

‘She died a year or two after Sarah. I was fifteen. She never was right after we lost her, missed her dearly, cried all the time. My father lost his patience after that, once Ma was gone there was no one to hold him back. I think he wants me dead most days because it would be easier for him. He could let us all go if we were all gone.’ Claire pulled herself into him, her head finding his shoulder as they walked in step. Owen faltered, staring down at her gentle touch like she was some kind of wild animal acting out.

‘And your first wife? What happened?’ Claire knew a line was approaching, one she couldn’t cross, risking Owen’s comfort in storytelling and a possible wrath. He only took a deep breath.

‘Margot.’ He breathed. ‘We were married when we were eighteen. She was a fisherman’s daughter, really no one my father could use for personal gain but he allowed the union when I asked.’ Claire could imagine her family was  _thrilled_  to hear their daughter was promised to a prince. That didn’t happen to just anyone. ‘She kept me sane in this crazy world. The East Court was a marvel to her and she embraced it about as fearlessly as baby birds learning to fly. We were married three years before she died. She got sick. Mae said it was the baby.’ Owen hesitated, caught on the small gasp Claire tried to hide. She was still beside him, steps mechanical as a twig snapped under her foot. ‘I’ve never seen anyone that ill. The baby died before she did and when Margot realised that, she let go.’ Claire couldn’t imagine what that must have felt like. Her heart ached as they stopped to watch the wolves in silence, her hand still in his, her head lightly resting on his shoulder.

She tried to find her voice after minutes of silence, conviction returning as she squeezed her husband's hand. ‘You’ve lost a lot of women in your life.’

Owen hummed, once again not looking at her as he took in a deep breath revelling in the sweet smell of her beside him. ‘They all die.’ His mother, his sister, his wife — Claire was starting to understand why the man had an apprehension for her but always managed to let it go when she lured him in with an easy wink. It wasn’t just that he was weak. She never missed the clench in his fist or the tick in his jaw that willed his body not to move.

Claire shook her head. ‘Not me.’ She stopped, feet planted firmly on the gravel. ‘I’m not dead and I’m not dying. Not unless I say so.’ She saw the same tick in his jaw, his hand clenching down on hers before he stood in front of her, face to face, his spare hand raising to cup her jaw. Owen didn’t want Claire to know of Theon’s demands. He gathered that she would understand the importance of an imminent pregnancy and had the mouths of the castle’s court for that. But, if she understood that Theon would throw her in a cell to use her as he pleased for not complying within a year of their marriage; Owen feared it would break her. She was too pure for that, too sweet to be tainted.

‘I could fall in love with you.’ When their eyes met, his thumb stroking soft circles on her cheek, Claire swore he peered right into her soul. Like a window, it moved both ways. She saw the hesitancy in his words and understood.

She stepped away, his hand falling to the empty air as Claire wrapped her arms around herself. ‘But you won’t.’ It was the sting of rejection that cooled her. He would have sex with her, of course, he would, she was beautiful and she was his wife, but he would not let himself love her. ‘You’re scared that if you love me, you’ll lose me like all the other women you’ve loved.’ She was hurt. ‘I am different but instead of waiting to see that for yourself, you’ve put me in a box with the rest of them without giving me a chance. May as well start digging my grave if you’re going to commit me to a loveless marriage.’ She huffed, temper rising and falling without apology. Owen reached for her and Claire allowed his hand to stay. ‘My brother will not accept this peace trade until I have proven my worth to The East. The only thing that will do that is a baby, Owen. Your father will not be held up to any promises until you have been given an heir.’ She would not tell him that Theon had threatened her. Mae warned her husband would do anything to keep his young wife safe and she feared if he knew of his father’s intentions for her, Owen would act. There was no telling how many people in The East Court would support Owen upon the murder of his father, or how many would out him the second it happened. They could not take that risk. She would not allow it. Not now. ‘It is on me, on us to ensure your father does not go back on his word. My brother will renounce me. I’ll lose my title, my place — I’ll be worthless.’

Her fears centred there. Being without the support of her great Dearing name. If Merrick renounced her, Claire would just be Claire, considered an orphan at nineteen with no family. Her father will be forced to stand before the kingdoms and claim that she was no longer his.

Owen was aware of the tears in her eyes and the fear tangled in her fingers. If her family did that, Theon had every right to throw her away. She would be worthless to him in more than one way. ‘My mother always told me, love is born from love and you cannot have children without it. If we have any chance at giving our families the solidity that they want, we need love. You need to love me.’ Claire stared him down with wide blue eyes, ‘I’m not asking for you to say it or even mean it wholeheartedly, I just need you to understand that you cannot refuse to let me in because you’re scared of getting hurt again.’    

He was scared of how his heart would feel when Theon made him watch what they had in store for Claire the second he got tired of waiting for an heir. Owen wouldn’t be able to take it, wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. He did not want to love her for fear of spending his dying moments worrying about her. It was going to happen regardless, the worry for the innocent young woman he called a wife. Whether she hated him or loved him back. Owen felt as though he could die easier knowing she  _hated_  him in that moment rather than mourned him.

Love made a person blind, stupid, deaf to the heinous crimes of the world. He did not want to find that Claire was the kind of woman to go soft after love struck her heart. She was fierce and independent, she marched after those who displeased her. But, what of the woman in love? Would she let things go? Would she cry in the cell Theon threw her in? He wanted to know that she raged loudly, made a racket like his wolves during the full moon and never gave up her spirit. He was scared that if he touched her with his love she would lose the fire.

‘I’m trying.’ He told her quietly. Trying to let his hardships go. Trying to get his father’s voice out of his head. Trying to rid himself of Margot’s sickly pleas. He was trying not to love her and trying to slip into her love a little faster all at once. His head was torn in two, feet moving in different directions as Owen asked what he wanted from this life.

He wanted to suggest that they wait for her family to renounce her before they run, escaping into the long hills beyond and off of Grady land. His father would not let him live, even if he stepped down from his title. The only way out was on foot, running for freedom as they screamed into the wind. Claire would never accept. Not with so much at risk. She wouldn’t take to that life. She was destined to be a queen, the whole world set to watch her conquer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire pushes social and gender boundaries. The universe pushes back.

She felt brave that morning when she woke, confidence telling Claire that nothing would touch her as Zara helped fix the laces on her clothes before intricately braiding her hair. She needed strength to feel like herself again. A few weeks ago Owen thought she was pregnant but when she got her period the following week everyone looked as if she had let them down. Her body didn’t feel like hers anymore. It belonged to the watchful eye of East court.

She found Owen just outside the castle walls, using the training grounds they had installed. Most of the men were there, the ones she noticed Owen always took with him wherever he went. They didn’t call them The Kings Guard here, but they acted in a similar way. She considered them his brutes. Rough men who likely held large death counts over their heads, willing to lay their lives down for Owen at his command. Despite that, they did not scare her. Claire knew these men could not touch her without facing the wrath of her husband and Owen was just as big as they were. She liked that about him; he was strong, trained alongside his men and saw to civilian issues often. It was more than she could say for Merrick who hid away in The Citadel until he was forced out on a battlefield. It was a miracle her brother was still alive. But, Owen, he stood a fighting chance against the toughest of men.

It smelt of manure and hay from the stables out there as the sounds of clashing metal filled her ears, men grunting as they honed their battle skills.

‘Are you going for a ride?’ Owen asked approaching his wife when he noticed she was completely alone, not even Zara by her side. She shook her head. A ride had not been in her plans. ‘What are you doing out here, then?’ He asked with a laugh, fingers tapping at the coat she wore. It was warm enough that she didn’t need it and yet Claire used it to conceal what she was wearing underneath.

‘I thought I could join you.’ She told him, no question in her tone as she shed herself of the coat to reveal the pant and shirt combo she was wearing. Owen stared, anger climbing up his face. They were  _his_  clothes, too large on her little body, tied down with added rope and a few ribbons around her arms. He could tell she wasn’t wearing a corset and that alone enraged him. If he  _knew_  the others would too and he wasn’t having his men ogling his corset-less wife.

‘You need to go change.’ He demanded, trying to throw her coat back over her shoulders.

Claire shook her head. ‘I can’t spar in a dress.’

‘You’re not sparring, not today. Not out here. Not ever.’ He couldn’t meet her eyes, Owen realising he had never really  _looked_  at her, not like this, completely out of her attire and draped in  _his_ clothes.  No one else was allowed to see her like that.

She put her hands on her hips, the coat falling off once again as she stared at him. ‘You said you didn’t want me to be miserable. I find handling a sword quite enjoyable.’ He stared at her, wide eyed and open-mouthed, this young woman in front of him dressed in men's clothes, a red braid long down her back and a determination in her eyes he was starting to realise wouldn’t lift. ‘What? Are you scared I’ll hurt your men?’

Owen shook his head, he was worried his men would hurt his wife. They wouldn’t dream of it, knowing more harm would come to them than not. If they were smart, they wouldn’t engage her in combat at all.

‘Women don’t fight.’

‘Bullshit.’ She swore, watching him flinch at the language from her mouth. He pursed his lips, ready to argue with her when Claire proposed a challenge. ‘If I can hit that target from thirty yards, I can stay, do as please, weld a sword or a bow. If I miss, I’ll go back to the castle and never ask again.’ That was a lie, of course, she would ask again but she would give Owen and cooling off period before she did.

He didn’t want to admit that he finally managed to place the small silver scar on her cheek, worry settling into his bones. He had seen similar marks, usually red and bloody, fresh out of the fight with his archers, the string pulled too close to the face. Suddenly, Owen realised she might actually win her little wager. He nodded anyway, agreeing, unsure which parts of him wanted to her to succeed and which wanted her to fail.

Claire attracted a crowd. She wasn’t hard to miss with her fiery hair and confident walk as she stalked across their outdoor barracks, catching the eye of every man she passed. Women didn’t particularly find themselves in this part of the castle. They were gawking, eyes on the woman wearing pants as she stomped over to a large barrel sprouting with bows, a stack of arrow filled quivers sitting on the bench beside it. She took her time, grasping her hands over the grips and the limbs, feeling the weight of the instrument before she found one she liked. Claire would have preferred the one she left in the Citadel, weapon not joining her on her journey in fear her new house would take it away. The one at home had been made especially for her, weight and size sculpted to give Claire a better edge. If she won the wager, she would send for it, that was if her family hadn’t thrown away what little possessions she left behind. For the time being, that The Grady’s had here would have to do.

It was heavier than she what she was used too, the string well used which would work in her favour. She lifted it easily, ignoring the eyes on her and sauntered towards her mark. Owen was standing a few feet away, keeping himself to the front of the growing pack.

‘What is she doing?’ She heard a voice ask. Owen only grunted the man vexed as he watched her.

She raised her arm, testing the bow as she tugged on the string sans arrow. ‘As she pleases.’ She heard Owen grunt in response.

She turned to him, body twisted at her waist, bow hanging from her hand as if it weighed nothing at all. ‘Ready to make good on that bet?’ She called to him, winking playfully as she caught Owen’s jaw drop. The men around him made noise, some cheering in her favour while others gave Owen shit, a few, she was sure, hollered that she should be inside helping the other women.

Owen nodded, the movement curt. She didn’t need his permission to lift the bow but she waited for it anyway. This move wasn’t intended to annoy him. She wouldn’t have done it if she thought he would be really mad. Claire felt comfortable, that she could trust him with her favoured past times and have his full support.  

She raised the bow with a steady arm, the other reaching for an arrow as she held it in place. Her biceps stretched, muscle bulging under Owen’s large shirt. Claire inhaled, one singular sharp breath as she lined up her shot, eye on the target thirty yards away. She held her breath, her body wound tight as a coil as she felt the string strain against her fingers. Claire let it go, feeling the string snap against her cheek as the arrow went flying down the field.

The men erupted in a roar as the arrow sunk itself into the centre of the target, Claire dropping the bow as she spun towards Owen. She could feel the glee bubbling in her chest, smile bright on her face. She couldn’t hide it. Nothing made her happier than hitting the target, the pot had sweetened when she proved someone else wrong.

Owen was leaving against the fence separating the path from the archery range. His arms were crossed over his chest, legs stretched out in front of him. One of his men clamped their hands down on his shoulders, shaking their lord with excitement and disbelief. Owen remained steady. The grin on his cheeks was deep, pressing dimples into his skin in something akin to pride.

She wasted no time in crossing the space between them in a confident stride. ‘Well,’ Owen cleared his throat, ‘I guess you get to spar with the men’. In that second, Claire felt like a child on the very same day her father had given the girl her first bow and quiver. She couldn’t help the joy that pounded through her bloodstream inline with adrenaline. She kissed him, both hands firm on either side of his face as their lips met. He revelled in the touch for a moment, kissing her back as lust pooled between them, Claire living off adrenaline as Owen tried to hide that her display had turned him on. His men cheered louder at the sight of their affection. ‘I get to pick who you train with.’ Owen told her, fingers sliding around her wrist.

Claire frowned. ‘I won’t  _damage_  your men.’ She told him defiantly.

Owen shook his head. ‘I don’t want anyone hurting  _you_. These are  _men_ we are talking about. They are not used to fighting with women and they will forget their own strength. Until I can find you a suitable sparring partner I will take their place.’

She pulled back, stepping out of the space between his legs. ‘You?’ She asked, frown in place. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Owen would make a good partner but rather that he had thrown her off.

‘C’mon, every wife dreams of taking her husband on in battle.’ He teased, letting her go as his fingers flexed against his legs. She could see he wanted to pull her back in.

Claire tilted her head, watching him with avid curiosity as she nodded. ‘I just don’t think you would like to lose face in front of all your men, here.’ She teased, winking at him as she took another step back, Owen launching for her with a wide grin.

‘You’re a terrible tease.’ He told her, and even though Owen had the speed and strength to catch Claire, he let her continually step out of his reach. ‘If you’re serious about this, I can ask Mae to fetch you some better clothes.’ She nodded, smile wide on her face.

‘I did this at home. I had an instructor and when the men from The Kings Guard came back from Merrick’s errands they would beg me for a duel.’ She admitted proudly before adding it was all in secret or else he would have heard about the duelling princess of The Citadel. ‘I was not sure how you would take to that revelation of my past times.’

‘And your father let you do this?’ She nodded. ‘Your brother?’

‘Didn’t approve, but Merrick didn’t mind what I did so long as I kept out of his war room.’ She turned her eyes away from him, her hands fidgeting. ‘I’ve never killed. Just played, really. It keeps me entertained.’ She was ashamed of the things she had to hide. Her  _boyish_  fancies that kept her time occupied. Claire loved the gardens and the horses, she wasn’t a very good tailor but she  _could_  sew. There were just other things that took her interest first. She wanted to fight and she wanted to take command. She was not interested in becoming a wife and a mother, but that was the hand she was dealt.  

‘You like to fight and plan wars, what woman did they send me?’ He asked, his tone endearing as he stepped into her personal space.

‘A wild one.’ Claire told him, breathless as she stepped back towards him and lent in. Their mouths were inches apart, breath ghosting over the face of the other as Claire closed the space between them with a cheeky peck. He didn’t let her breakaway, instead, Owen slid his arms around her waist and deepened their kiss. She whimpered against him, her hands bunching his clothes into her fists. Claire felt her cheeks burn hot, well aware that other men were in their presence, but she paid them no mind, happy to get lost in the feel of her husband, grin growing wide.

She wondered momentarily if he was going to distract her requests with sex. Claire would be a willing participant, if not a little pouty that he tore her away from her desired activities. But, she was starting to find, as his teeth nipped her lip, she desired him a little more than sparring in that moment.

Owen pulled away, leaving Claire to whimper at him as a crease formed in her brow. The warmth of his body and his shirt in her hand was easily replaced with cool steel, the item heavy in her hand as Claire realised he had slipped a sword into her grasp.

‘Lets see what you’ve got.’ He teased with a wink, skin flushed from their kissing as Claire wondered on the effectiveness of a lust-addled mind.

Claire had fought with some of the toughest men in her brother’s guard. They had come from all over The Four Kingdoms to serve Merrick and in their free time engaged Claire in a sparring match when she felt like it. For a long time, she thought a few might fancy her and if they kept up their game she could even fall in love with them. Often times, they thought her an easy mark and a quick defeat. She never let them with.

She had some of the greatest teachers the earth had to offer and yet Owen Grady nearly had her beat. There were keen warnings of bruises blooming against her skin, a few on her arms and legs another angry welt against her ribs. Once again, they drew a crowd that day, men gathering to watch their Lord and Lady spar as Claire taunted him playfully. They had to call it quits before someone  _really_  got hurt, Owen already sporting a cut on his brow from a tumble neither of them saw coming. Regardless, it was her blade that did it and she didn’t exactly want to see herself become a widower.

They found their rhythm in a heartbeat, learning to spar with the other, anticipating the next move. She could feel him in her head, just as she suspected he could feel her. They melded together as one thought, trying to counteract the other’s next move.

It carried to the bedroom, when their strength was waining, the both of them panting as their lungs tried to keep up. In the privacy of their bedchambers, they tore at the other, hands quick and confident, squeezing and tugging, eliciting sweet little moans.

Owen tugged at his ill-fitting trousers on her hips, yanking them down as he dropped to his knees. He was peppering fat kisses up her legs, pace hurried against the soft skin of her thighs as he climbed higher, enjoying the lack of her skirts. His kisses turned from sloppy to precise as she felt his nose nudge at her nether regions before his tongue made a calculated move. Her hands were buried in his hair, curled tight and likely to be causing him pain. Owen didn't complain, only continued his work.

He didn’t move until her legs started to twitch, knees promising to give way with every stroke of his tongue or the suction of a deliberate kiss. Claire crawled onto the bed the second he let her go, arms unwinding from her legs as laughter drifted from the tip of her tongue.

It was so different now than what it had been. Their coupling not forced or hazed by alcohol. Claire was starting to lose count on the number of times they had sex but this moment felt distinctly different from all the rest. Something in her chest felt at ease, wanted in this space not because she was promised to him, or that she had taken charge and turned the tables. She was here, her body quivering because like it or not, Owen fancied her as more than a wife he was given. He might not have been ready to admit it but Claire could feel lust melding with love or in the least a strong form of admiration.

Claire felt joyful at his tough, complete with every kiss on her body as he pushed his shirt over her head. His kisses led to nips, teeth grazing her skin as she squirmed, hips raising to roll against his in impatient little moves. She was panting, unabashed and out of rhythm as each touch his fingers made, each squeeze, each kiss, lick and nip encouraged her breath to catch and stutter past her lips.

Her hair had come loose, falling out of the intricate braids Zara had placed them in early that morning. Instead, the curled red strands fanned a halo around her head, a length of it stretched over her shoulder, draped down her breast in a wave as Owen curled it around his fingers, his palm cupping the heavy flesh of her chest as Claire pushed herself further into his hand. He grinned at the sight of her arched back, other hand sliding under her ribs as his fingers pressed at her spine.

He was learning to adore Claire in all forms but this was his favourite; wife stretched out on his bed, naked, hair wild as she stretched her arms beyond her head and grinned at him with lust filled eyes. She was a vision he had only ever imagined, a happiness he thought he could never find.

It was not lost on Owen that Claire let him keep the lead. She was capable of turning their game, twisting their bodies and sliding him home without any more lingered nonsense. Instead, she let him take his time, let him kiss her body in the most lovely of places, her skin humming as she mewled. She let him have the power between them, the control of her lust and the speed in which he devoured it.

‘Please, Owen.’ She whimpered, his name the ghost of a sound as she hooked her leg around his. Owen grinned, his eyes meeting hers as he lowered his head, playfully taking a nipple between his teeth. She cursed him with a breathy giggle as her body squirmed, Owen lowering a steady hand to her hip to keep her still. It only made her try harder, whimper soft as he lavished her skin with wet kisses. Claire allowed him the control, but that did not stop her from reaching between their bodies with impatient fingers to grasp ahold of the one thing she wanted.

[…]

Claire woke with a start, a fright clutching at the edges of her thoughts as it rattled down to her chest. She sat up on the large bed, ears straining to catch what had awoken her. The night was still, moonlight bathing their room as a muscle in her leg twitched with the reminder of her husband’s touch, the man sleeping soundly beside her. She watched him for a minute, fondly admiring the side of his face as he slept naked and on his stomach, the broad plans of his back bare to her. She had not failed to notice the four bodies missing from the floor and furniture, the wolves were gone.

The night whistled outside the open windows, still and smooth, a cool breeze calming. She told herself to lay back down, willing it all away as a bad dream that had startled her. Claire returned her head to the pillow and curled closer into Owen, tucking her arms around one of his as he started to stir. ‘Sleep, Princess.’ He mumbled to her, other hand raising to pet at her hair.

‘The girls are gone.’ She told him quietly, trying not to sound frightened as everything felt too still around her. Something wasn’t right, Claire knew it, she just couldn’t put her finger on exactly what.

Owen shrugged, grunting a little in his sleepy throat as he tucked her in closer. ‘They get up sometimes.’ He said as if to remind her that they were house trained and there was a courtyard only a few feet away. ‘They’re wild animals, they get restless.’ Claire wanted to ask what was there to be restless about. The night was oddly still, absent of hooting owls or baying wolves. Why had his girls gotten up and left them and why had she never noticed before?

Claire was drifting again, marvelling at how silly she felt in being so concerned. Just as her eyes closed and sleep started to climb over her like a blanket she heard voices outside the chamber doors, the Grady soldiers who stood guard of them while they slept were alarmed, their voices shouting at someone. Owen was awake, she heard the shift in his breathing beside her as his body turned rigid. He sprung out of bed the second metal hit metal outside the chamber door.

‘Stay here.’ He demanded a finger pointed in Claire’s direction as she sat in the middle of their bed, sheets a mess around her. He was trying to tug a pair of pants on with one hand as he freed his sword from its sheath with the other. Half clothed, Owen tossed a dagger onto their bed, the small weapon landing a few inches from Claire as she stared at it. ‘Use it if you have to.’ He told her, vowing when the night was over he would get her a better weapon. She looked at him with a gaping expression, half blubbering as Claire tried to remind him she had never killed before. ‘You know how to use it.’ Owen was confident. ‘I don’t want you hurt in this, Claire. Strike as many times as you need to, just make sure it’s not any of  _my_  men.’ There was no guarantee that it wasn’t rogue Grady men behind that door but Claire understood if their intention was to hurt her, Owen wanted them dead.

She couldn’t help but feel scared. The Citadel’s castle had been threatened a small number of times in her life but Claire had been too young to remember it. Everyone knew the palace was impenetrable and any chances of wreaking havoc on The Dearings would be stopped and saw too. All those involved would be put to their deaths. She felt vulnerable in Grey Castle, sitting in a nightgown with nothing but a dagger to protect her. She missed the sight of Owen’s girls, suddenly wishing all four beasts were by her side for comfort. Claire worried about Owen, too, unsure of what he was facing beyond those doors as she heard men shout and swords clash.

Claire wanted to do her part, wanted to help in the fight but she knew a dagger against swords would see her death quicker than anything else. Claire stayed put, listening to the sounds of fighting as she cringed every time she swore Owen’s voice could be heard.  

The voices fell silent after a while. Claire couldn’t tell if they had moved on or if they had managed to kill themselves in the fight and lay bleeding to death out in the hall. She waited for Owen to return and when he didn’t Claire got antsy.

She didn’t want to sit there and wait for misfortune to find her. It might have been the safest option, if the men really had moved on they would have left her be. Claire moved regardless, feet hitting the cool floor as she broke out into the hallway, heart hammering as her eyes scanned the bodies on the floor for her husband. There was no sign of Owen, the tightening in her chest eased.

There was no doubt she stepped in blood, feet bare as she wandered the halls of the castle, looking for Owen or a familiar face that could ease her worries. The castle was empty and the night beyond it remained still. She couldn’t hear the clash of swords any longer or the grunting of fighting men. She was peeping around the corner of an unfamiliar room, quietly calling out her husband’s name when someone grabbed her from behind. They smelt foul, hands too small on her to be her thick bodied husband.

‘Just what I was looking for.’ The man purred in her ear. Every hair on her body stood on end, chill coursing down her spine as his voice huffed warm breath against her neck. It wasn’t Owen. Claire tried to pull away but his arm around her was too tight. She struggled none the less, resisting his hold that only grew tighter with every wriggle she made.

‘Owen!’ She tried to be quiet, tried not to draw any attention to herself while she was tip-toeing the halls alone. Caught by an unknown assailant, she threw her earlier caution to the wind. With eyes squeezed closed, she hoped Owen was near enough to hear her cries. ‘ _Owen_!’

The other man, wearing a uniform Claire didn’t recognise, shoved her against the wall allowing Claire to turn and face him. He had a heavy hand on her hip, his grip too tight and unforgiving. She squeezed the grip of the dagger Owen entrusted to her, rolling it between her sweaty palm before Claire pulled her arm back. She felt the metal snag against the man’s skin, her eyes closed again as he gasped, the dagger dragging across his throat and spurting hot blood across her face. He stumbled back, still standing when she opened her eyes, refusing to give up. He lunged at her, a hand on his throat but life was leaving his body, draining his energy quickly as he fell at her feet.

Claire didn’t move. She pressed her back against the cold wall and held her breath as she listened to the man’s haggard breathing fade out, gaping on the floor. She kicked at him after a minute, toes pushing at his shoulder and finding the body lifeless.

There was a shake in her fingers, a rattle that climbed up her arms and shook across her shoulders. She had never killed before. Never taken a life. Her father never let her take a sword or a bow into a more practical setting. Claire only had wooden figures to practice on and Merrick’s men. She was not allowed to  _kill_  her brother's soldiers. And now, there was a man, dead at her feet, his blood sticky on her skin and soaking through her gown. She could still feel the ghost of his breath on her neck and the rough sound of his voice climbing into her ears.  

Claire slipped to the floor, only a few feet from the man’s dead body. She didn’t cry, just gasped for breath as a fear response took over her. Claire had never considered herself squeamish but it was a different thing entirely to be covered in the thick red life of someone else. Her life was threatened and her protection nowhere to be found, it was reasonable that she took it into her own hands.

Time passed right by her, indistinguishable as the night moved on heading no signs of if it was closer to morning than not. The hall was stone cold, shivering breeze gliding past her only making her body rattle harder.

Despite the man’s intentions, she had killed him, taken his life in order to keep her body hers, her mind untouched and her sanity clear. The latter two were damaged, Claire could feel them sitting high in her throat, threatening to pull on her gag reflex. Her mind was shaken, her sanity unhinged and despite knowing there were lives sitting  _somewhere_  in the castle; she felt inexplicably alone.

‘Claire?’ She only flinched at the voice, caught too far in her head to recognise the sound of her husband. ‘Oh Claire.’ He dropped to his knees in front of her, wasting no time in pulling the woman against his bare chest, his large hand on her face. Her hair was a mess as he tried to push long strands out of the way, loose and caught between their bodies as he fought with it. She snapped, something inside of her breaking as a sob slipped past her throat and filled the hallway with a desperate sound.

Her tears were fat and hot, running down her cheeks in steady streams. Her hands gripped ahold of him, wrapping around his bicep and refusing to let go. She waited for him to remind her that he said to stay put, his scolding tone acting as if she wouldn’t be in this situation if she had just hidden like a good little girl. He didn’t. Instead, his large hands pulled her head away from the comfort of his left pectoral so he could read her expression. She felt her eyelashes flutter, her mind focusing on the feel of his thumbs stroking the blood off her face as nothing but concern radiated from his green eyes.

‘I didn’t want to just  _sit_ there. I’m not helpless.’ She said, conviction unsure as her hands shook violently. ‘I killed him.’ Her eyes were drawn to the lifeless body that had been her doing as Owen tried to help her to her feet. ‘I  _killed_  him, Owen.’ She struggled to stand, legs shaking as her fingers kept a death grip on his arm.

‘Did he touch you?’ Owen asked, crouching so he was at her height. Claire nodded, mind drifting to the pain that still hovered over her hip. ‘Then, it was justified.’ Owen watched her, when the sun was shining that afternoon she was as solid as the blade of his sword. It marvelled him that she had softened. If he was being really honest, he adored that she could shift and change. He wished the circumstances were different but valued that she was willing to experience the full spectrum of emotion and was unafraid to share it with him.

He knew she could walk, even on her shaking legs but there was something about the state she was in that encouraged Owen to scoop her into his arms. She tried to protest, her efforts weak and short as she gave in.

‘The attack came off the coast.’ He told her, tilting his cheek to the right so it touched her forehead. Owen stepped over the body in the hall, anger flaring in his gut as he tried to ignore the bloody handprint around his wife’s tiny ankle. ‘Restless men who thought they could strike at us and therefore affect the beating heart of The Four Kingdoms. They knew you were here. The second I heard you were the target I came to get you. Scared the shit out of me to see that room empty.’ She felt her skin turning cold at the realisation that these men were there for her. What had she done to them, other than being the daughter of Rickon Dearing? Claire cuddled closer to her husband, arms tightening their grip around his neck as she buried her head against his pec. She did not think she needed a man to protect her but she was glad she had Owen. ‘They’ve all been apprehended.’ Twenty men, still breathing, and a dozen dead. ‘It’s not going to happen again, Claire, I won’t let it.’ There was supposed to be an action in place in case of emergencies but with no women in the castle beyond staff, it went out the window after Beth Grady died. They had no one left to protect in the events of an invasion.

She shivered like a child caught in the snow, sitting alone on the ottoman in their room as he ran a bath. Owen didn’t know what else to do. He wanted her out of her bloody nightgown and the red off her skin. He could have called for Zara but did not want to disturb the girl. Claire flinched every time a voice sounded outside of their chambers. Owen had to keep reminding her they were Grady soldiers picking up the bodies of those who intruded on her home. He even brought them into the room, quietly, so they could introduce themselves and give their lady the best smiles their gruff faces would allow.

He didn’t know how he knew that Zara added gardenia rose petals to his wife’s bath or that smooth pellets of rosewood joined them. He noticed the smells hiding away in a drawer he had opened accidentally and recognised them immediately as the scent of his wife. Owen couldn’t pretend he knew of their healing properties along with the other things he had seen Claire slather on her skin or the whispered transactions of things he never saw, quite voices promising his wife it would help them to have a baby. He focused on the good smells, what he knew to be  _Claire,_ earthy and sweet, smelling of the forest and extravagant flowers. He loved that even in scent she seemed to match his life.

She let him help her was the blood from her skin, starting with the threatening mark around her ankle. He did not join her in the water, only reached wide arms in with a soft cloth disappearing into the petals. ‘Feeling better, Princess?’ He asked tone light with a smirk on his lips despite his aching heart. The pet name was not lost on Claire, nor was the fondness in which he used it. She nodded softly.

There was an angry bruise blooming on her hip and he knew it had nothing to do with their sparring match that afternoon. It came from her assailant. She had not seen the worst of brutality but a first kill could be torturous on any. Claire played tough and he had no doubt that she was a strong woman. But, she was also nineteen-years-old, still, a girl newly married into the world after always being protected. Her father and brother let her spar because it was under a controlled circumstance. Never would they allow her to be in harm's way, just as Owen would try to keep up the same protection. But, in the East, as his wife, he was willing to slacken the reins on her life. If Claire wanted to join him on a hunt she was more than able — and welcome — if she could stomach the conscious of a murder. He had no doubt that she would after this.

‘I think it’s “ _my queen”_ , to you.’ She was recovering. Her hand broke the surface of the water to touch his bearded cheek. Owen met her halfway, their kiss gentle and sweet different from the hurried sloppy movements they had shared before falling asleep. Once again, he was reminded of both sides of Claire, madly in love with each.

He left her for five minutes, to check on the soldiers who kept guard, assuring all was quiet and safe in Castle Grey for the rest of the night. When he returned, Claire’s skin was pink from the bath, the room smelling heavenly of her scent as she sat cross-legged in the middle of their bed in nothing but one of his too large shirts. The girls were back in their presence, two of them curled at the foot of the bed, while a third lingered by the bathroom. Blue was by his side, never one to leave him for too long a time. Claire’s hair was cascading in waves down her shoulders and nearly into her lap as she brushed at the tangles grown from sex and sleeping with her hair loose. Her bustle with an intruder didn’t help it any, nor did the messy bun she threw it in when Owen drew her a bath.

‘Here,’ he reached his arm out, quietly asking for the brush as took a step towards the bed. It was curiosity that was getting the better of her, biting her teeth into her bottom lip in the same way Claire did when she was turned on. She handed him the brush without a fight, watching him with eyes only as he sat beside her.

Claire moved so she had her back to him, her hands flicking her hair over her shoulders for him as she waited.

Never had anyone brushed her hair as gently as Owen Grady. It caught on a few strands here and there but he always whispered a quiet sorry whenever it happened. Claire could count on two hands the number of people who had brushed her hair and the number of reasons why she preferred to do it herself. Even Zara could be a little rough but they had known each other since they were girls and Claire was willing to forgive her helpful friend. But Owen, a woman could get used to that kind of treatment from her husband.

‘How do you know what you’re doing?’ She asked, usual tone back in place as Owen grinned at the sound of his wife’s return.

He hummed, willing to tell her he didn’t just for her reaction. ‘Sarah. She used to cry like nothing else every time her hair was pulled. Would come running to me wherever I was — no matter what I was doing — and would insist I do her hair because I was gentle with her. She taught me to braid too. Can I show you?’ He could feel her hesitate only a few seconds before she nodded, high sound in her throat.

Just like with a brush, Owen’s large hands were gentle. The very same hands that killed men that night, that fed the horses in the stables, that hunted big game for the thrill of it, and the very same hands that had scooped her up so delicately and drew her a bath. She sat still, trying to picture the concentration on his face while she waited for him to finish. When Owen was done gliding his fingers through her red locks, he slid the braid over her shoulder and placed an easy kiss on the side of her neck. She melted into him without issue, hands running over the braid as praised his handy work. It was nothing intricate. He had told her as much, explaining that she only needed something simple to sleep in, enough to keep her hair out of her way and away from his face.

‘C’mon, sleepy girl,’ Owen squeezed her, not oblivious to the tired sag of her body and his own eager need to climb back under the covers and curl around his wife knowing she was safe. ‘Time for bed.’ She nodded but didn’t move, the two of them sitting in the others embrace for a few minutes before Owen tugged at the sheets around her.  

She waited for him to settle before Claire curled herself into his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Sleep found them both quickly, Claire drifting off as soon as her eyes closed as Owen remained away for a little longer. He held her, thumb stroking a line on her arm as he reflected on the fear that plummeted his heart to his stomach the second the castle’s assailants admitted why they were there. He knew Claire was a target for his father, but he never realised that with having her outside of The Citadel she became an  _easier_  target to the old king who had only ever kept his youngest close to his heart. If they wanted to hurt The Keepers of the Kingdom, hurting Claire would have been the right way to start.

Owen had vowed angrily, in front of the assailants, his men, his staff and his father that if any harm was directed towards Claire again, and if anyone who wished her arm was allowed access to  _his_  wife they would have something else coming.

When he found their chambers empty he feared the worst. Spotting her, bloody in the hallway, still breathing, her attacker dead at her feet, Owen had never felt that much relief in his life. He had not realised how much she meant to him until her life was truly threatened. Claire Dearing had crawled under his skin and he was fine with that. Life or death, he felt like he could fight the world with Claire by his side.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Owen leave the castle to seek out fresh air. Claire reveals a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe we’re already halfway through and I only started posting three weeks ago. I love you guys, your enthusiasm is amazing and I’m going to miss it so much when this is done. 
> 
> You’ve made me a goddamned addict. 
> 
> It’s currently 6am and I haven’t slept yet. At this rate I will sleep all day. So, y’all can have this for when your Thursday is done. Or whatever works with your timezone. 
> 
> I’m gonna sleep. I expect your usual enthusiasm in my inbox when I awake.

 

She woke to his hands on her shoulders, voice quiet as he lulled her out of her dreams.

She startled, still on edge from the attack the Grey Castle endured a few weeks ago. ‘What’s happening?’ She asked, scrambling to sit up as her heart began to thud in her chest. This was it,  the men were back, Owen hadn’t killed them all and now they were returning with reinforcements. Her mind was running wild with possibilities, caught between a large handful of threats. Had Theon grown bored of waiting? Was he sending his men to kill them in their sleep and Owen was given advance warning?

He shook his head, a large finger stroking her cheek fondly. ‘Nothing.’ Owen smiled, teeth showing as she stared at his sleep-ruffled hair. He was already dressed, leaning over her in their bed, waiting. Claire couldn’t remember him mentioning anything about plans for the morning of his or hers that would mean she had to be awake. ‘I wanted to show you something. Get dressed.’ Her clothes had already been laid out for her on the ottoman but Zara was nowhere to be found. Claire was quick to notice the items waiting for her were trousers, a blouse, a coat and a pair of Claire’s riding boots.

‘Are we going riding?’ She asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Owen shrugged, finger held to his lips as to tell her it was a secret. She dressed, choosing to leave her corset behind with her jacket much to her husband’s dismay. The weather was always warm at Castle Grey, Claire feeling the morning sun already flush her cheeks and make her head dizzy. Mae promised water would fix all her problems but lately Claire couldn’t help but disagree. There was nothing to help her suddenly woozy view of the world.

They tiptoed out of the castle like it was a secret, Owen holding her hand as he pulled her through the cool stone halls. In the stables, they were met by a tired-eyed boy who regularly tended to their horses. Owen’s horse was ready as well as the one gifted to Claire on her wedding day. She raised her hand to the nose of her chestnut mare.

‘Good morning, Allegra.’ She touched her head to the horse’s nose, pausing to breathe for a moment. Owen scoffed, rolling his eyes as he playfully called her ridiculous. She only smiled at him from the corners of her eyes knowing how gentle he was with his creatures. ‘Good morning to you too, Oscar.’ She patted the nose of his horse too before thanking the stable hand. ‘Are they coming with us?’ Claire asked, disdain slipping into her voice as she looked over at the wolves who shadowed them. Owen couldn’t contain his laughter, she was gentle with all creatures — bar his wolves. But, he could sense she was starting to come around.

He nodded. Wherever he went, the girls went too.

Oscar, Owen’s black stallion, was equipped with his saddle and a basket. Owen only smiled when she looked at it funny, quietly questioning what was within.

Their ride was quiet. Filled with the pleasant sounds of rock under hoof as the birds softly sang in the trees. She followed Owen’s lead across grassy fields and a few farming plots before he headed into the woods. She didn’t ask what they were doing, or where they were going, too tired to keep up a conversation and eager to not ruining what he was promising to be a surprise.

He stopped when they came to a clearing in the trees, cliffs edge only a few feet away as ocean stretched as far as the eye could see.

Owen dismounted, tying Oscar to a fallen trunk before he helped Claire down from her horse. She didn’t need his assistance but accepted it without protest, eyes still stuck on the long expanse of blue.

‘It looks so wild like this.’ She uttered, stepping closer to the edge. Owen hummed. ‘At the Citadel, I could see the ocean from my bedroom but it was always cluttered with ships coming into the harbour. This, there is nothing in sight. It looks so happy. So untouched and free.’ Claire knew Owen’s family also had a dock in a central village at the very bottom of a cliff his castle lived on. But, it was nowhere near as busy as the one from her home. His was used for local fishermen and the odd shipment or too but the docks were nowhere near the size of the Citadel harbour and the larger ships would often have to lower their anchor's miles from shore.  

Today, there was nothing on the water.

‘I thought you might like to escape the castle today. All of it. The villages too.’ It wasn’t that he thought she was overwhelmed. Claire came from the busiest place in The Four Kingdoms. He thought she might want to get away from the foreign place. And maybe the attack had settled his aggravated bones and encouraged him to bring her out where it was calm and quiet. He couldn’t promise nothing would hurt her out here but they could at least pretend they were different people.

Claire had been part of his home for six months now. She was expected to have made herself comfortable and Owen had no doubt that she was doing just so. He just wanted to show her that it didn’t always have to be so strange. That his land had beautiful elements that were silent as the dead of night and not nearly as threatening as an unknown attack.

She smiled at him, the most brilliant smile he had ever seen. Something in his chest fluttered. He liked her. Owen had tried to deny himself of that for so long but in the last few weeks, she had pulled at his final tethers. Maybe she had knocked something loose in their sparring match, but there was certainly an ache in his chest whenever looked over at her. It was the last thing he wanted but it made so much sense to love the young woman that she was. Claire was smart, talented and feisty. She challenged him and he did the same to her. He was learning to tune his father’s voice out, learning to tune in on Claire instead as he willed love to be enough to save them.

‘Thank you.’ She told him quietly like a small bird had taken up a nest inside her throat. Owen only turned away from her, fiddling with the basket on Oscar’s side as he managed to pull out a bottle of wine and a full lunch already prepared and packet. ‘Why?’ Claire asked when she turned to see what he organised.

‘I told you. I thought you might want the escape.’

‘You know, I used to run off on my Kings Guard all the time … my handmaids too. Escape never meant a full lunch. Usually just a few hours of freedom before turning myself back in.’ Her smile was small.

‘You don’t have to eat it.’ But she was starving. Usually, she was only just rubbing the sleep from her eyes now, the sun rising high in the sky. Zara, most mornings, brought her breakfast. There was nothing this morning and Claire’s stomach was grumbling angrily. ‘I hope you haven’t felt the need to run off on my men or your handmaid whilst here.’ Owen inquired, watching her carefully as she picked something and started eating eagerly.

She shook her head. ‘So long as I am in the castle walls I am left alone. There is always somebody nearby but never hovering too close. I feel free.’

‘Like the ocean today?’

Claire shook her head again. ‘I’ll never be that free. Neither is she, you know. Men will always chart her waters just as I will always be watched. Just as we all answer to someone. Even the farmers.’

‘You think about the farmers a lot?’

She giggled. ‘When I was a little girl, I thought I could marry one. There was a farmers boy who used to bring our cooks vegetables. We would play before he had to leave. I asked my father if I could marry him.’ She laughed. ‘I was only eight. But, I saw such a splendid life with that boy. I thought owning a farm would be an easy, quiet living but they get tormented just as much as a queen. And obviously, my father thought it inappropriate.’

‘I’m glad he said no.’ Owen told her as Claire turned a soft frown in his direction. ‘I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you.’ He offered. ‘Let alone marry you and I am glad I did. You’re special, Claire’ She couldn’t hide the way her cheeks flushed, feeling them hot in an instant as he spoke. It was almost an  _I love you_.

‘If we did not meet, we would not be here, the ocean spread before us. I would not be your wife or you my husband. If my father had allowed me to marry the farmer’s boy it would be his child growing in my belly, not yours.’ She told him so softly, Owen almost didn’t hear her and when he did he couldn’t measure if she was happy or upset.

‘What?’ He asked stuttering, the word sharp.

‘ _I beg your pardon_.’ She corrected, hell-bent on adjusting his manners. The Grady’s were royalty but, as Claire had learnt, the standards in the East were not as high as the rest of the kingdom. Owen nodded, accepting the correction as he stared at her, mouth agape, unwilling to argue the formalities of language.

Claire bit her lip shyly. This woman — his wife — drove him mad. She was confident in one heartbeat and then unsure in the next. ‘I am with child.  _Your_  child.’ Claire didn’t meet his eyes, instead, steadied her blue ones to the scenery stretched out in front of them. She jumped when his warm hand encompassed her knee, the other reaching across her body to tug her shoulder towards him.

‘Are you okay with this?’ He was mildly breathless, like everything in him was collapsing, the solid structure of a man finally letting all his fears go. Married five months and they were finally safe in his father’s wicked games. 

She shrugged, leaving Owen to watch the profile of her face as she answered him with indifference. ‘I want to live.’ She did not want to be a mother, she feared for the life her child would have but hoped that Theon would be long gone before he could put her baby in danger. She feared for her own parenting techniques, scared to hand the baby off to a nanny to raise whilst she had no involvement but scared to do it all on her own. For Claire, there was no in between. It was have help or have nothing.

Owen’s brow furrowed, his hand on her shoulder squeezing tightly as he stared at her. ‘Did my father speak to you?’ She only needed to nod. ‘Claire, I —‘

She shook her head. ‘It was expected either way. Our families would not have accepted the trade of our marriage complete until I gave you a child. A son. An heir.’ Claire told him this with a blank expression on her face, hands in her lap as her eyes continued to watch the sky jetting off the cliff. ‘I personally would have preferred having children with the farmer’s boy.’ She turned to him, eyes almost empty, face expressionless. Claire waited for a beat before she winked, lips splitting into a wide smile. She brought her hands up to his chest, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. ‘You’re a kind man, Owen, I am just now getting to see it. I feel safe at Grey Castle with you.’ She lent in, hands squeezing his shirt into the balls of her firsts as Claire shook him slightly. ‘I know I don’t get a choice in all of this, but I am glad my brother sent me to you.’

He lent in without a word, lips meeting hers as his hand cupped the back of her neck. She didn’t pull away, didn’t fight him, instead her hands slid over his shoulders body leaning in as she smiled against his touch. Owen failed to notice Claire moving to stand on her knees, the woman easily straddling his lap before she overpowered him, the man falling to his back. Claire triumphantly found herself on top of him, a sly smile growing across her lips. She was in charge here, as she liked to be, Owen incapable of denying her. Owen was learning to relinquish his control, twenty-three years were on his shoulders, where women came and went, often considered  _things_  for him to control and  _accessory_  for East court. Claire had shown him differently, the shiniest of all his possessions and she was not to be claimed or put on display. She allowed him the pleasure of calling her  _his_  gruff voice grumbling the word as his hands squeezed  _mine_  against the flesh of her thighs.

Owen felt like he was being cleansed, Claire soft and light all around him, her touch barely there as he tried to focus on  _her_ , on forgiving what he had done and the life she had been brought into. He could only hope that his father didn’t live long enough to continue to torment them and that this baby in her belly —  _their_ child _—_ would be enough to keep Theon Grady off their backs and out of their lives. He was promised that was all his father wanted, a male heir before he died to prove the family line would remain theirs.

He followed Claire’s lead, willing to put his thoughts out of his head as he felt her small fingers tug at his shirt. She freed the fabric from the trousers he wore with a little effort, the smile on her face victorious as she pulled the shirt over his head.

Owen couldn’t help but watch her. He needed to admit that he was in love. He found himself staring at her when she wasn’t looking, catching the freckles on her cheek and the curve of her lip as she smirked. He watched the way her hips moved, spine-bending as he wondered how she would look a few months from now, her belly round with his child.

He overpowered her in a second, rolling them, his hands keeping her secure as he lowered her back to the grass, air escaping her lungs in surprise. Owen hesitated, scared that he hurt her, eyes wide and worried as her mouth slid up into a large grin. She giggled loudly and out of control until his mouth found the dip in her throat and ventured up to the side of her neck.

His wife sighed under his body, giggling mirth gone as her hands slid up his sides, fingers sliding between his ribs as her touch burnt his skin. Claire slid her grip south, small fingers finding the edge of his trousers, pushing at the fabric until she could bury her nails into the smooth mounds of his ass. Selfishly, she was focused on her pleasure, mind on  _his_  fingers instead of hers as she felt his touch slide across her belly and pass the strings that kept her trousers secured to her hips.

Her laughter vanquished, giggles replaced with a steady moan as his thick fingers slid between her legs. Claire could see now why her brothers chased that feeling, luring girls into stripping their clothes so their skin could touch. Owen had no qualms with her wanting to go again and again, her small fingers reaching for contact with his skin even when the time and place had not allowed it.

When Merrick told her she would be sent to the Grady’s to marry Owen, Claire thought she was headed towards a miserable life. She expected to experience the same things her sister wrote in letters; pain, heartache, and complete hatred. Claire expected to loathe Owen and she did in their early days until his softer side started to show.

She liked him. He was rough around the edges, stern and withdrawn on occasion but he wanted her to be happy. He did what he had to do to ensure their security. Claire could understand that, could forgive him while she continued to hold a grudge against her brother’s head.

She was happy.  _Finally_. The sea breeze whistling past her ears, grass soft beneath her and Owen was stroking her into ecstasy.

[…]

‘I never want to leave this place.’

They had lingered, drawing lazy orgasms from each other before Owen rolled onto his back in the grass and propped his head on her stomach. They watched the clouds wordlessly listening to the ocean as a breeze pushed through the trees. There was no mayhem there, no noise from the stables or the training grounds his men used. This was serenity wrapped in a neat bow that smelt of the wilderness and was as warm as Owen tucked against her.

‘I’m going to build you a home out here.’ He announced, hand finding her ankle. Claire made a noise of protest, the sound caught between a chuckle and a surprised gasp. ‘I want you to have a piece of land here. Something that is yours and a place for us to bring our son.’ Something away from the noise and the crowd of the castle where responsibility could ignore them for a day or two. He wanted his son to grow with the grass under his toes, free, untamed grass without a handful of eyes watching and pressuring him to take his first steps. ‘We can keep sheep out here.’ He lifted his head from her stomach to garner her reaction, wide smile splitting across his face as he saw her chuckle.

‘Claire,’ Owen started, voice sombre. She propped herself up on her forearms to look at him, curious quirk lining her brow. ‘Will you let me be your sheep farmer?’

‘Is that a proposal?’ She asked him, smile biting her lip.

Owen sat up and shuffled closer, Claire followed suit, seriousness mixed with mirth and dancing on her cheeks. Owen’s grin widened, something in his eyes flicked burning brighter than fury. ‘Do you want it to be?’

She nodded, sliding easily into his lap once again as Claire pressed her lips to Owen’s with as much passion as she could summon. ‘I would like very much to see you rearing sheep.’ If she focused hard enough she could see a hazy vision of Owen tending to a heard of sheep, cubby legged little boy trying to keep up with him as Owen proved his wolves could be domesticated.

She could see him standing out there, by that cliff, whistling commands to his wolves like they were sheepdogs with a toddler on his hip. Claire could imagine their lives filled with easy simplicities away from East Court. They would still have their duties but under Owen’s rule, she could see it all relax. Claire had the smarts to encourage his political moves and Owen manned the East army that was feared across The Four Kingdoms. They could live peacefully. She could see him laughing in the grass with more than one child as the wolves watched over their wobbling steps.

‘I am devoted to you.’ Owen’s hand on her cheek pulled Claire from her daydreams. Her eyes met his, a smile gracing her cheeks as her thumb met her dimple there. It was another almost  _I love you._ Claire could feel her heart hammering in her chest. It was enough. ‘I will give you anything, all you have to do is ask, Princess.’

She lent into him, lips parted as she kissed him softly. ‘Don’t let this end just yet.’ She was in his lap in a heartbeat, arms wound around his neck. She didn’t want to leave that moment, not just yet. For once, Theon was not on her mind, the attack melted away. She stopped thinking about Merrick’s response to her letters for help.

Claire had written to her brother when Theon first threatened her, practically begged the eldest sibling for help. She wrote a plea for her life, asking that he pull her out of The East. As her relationship with Owen developed, she asked Merrick for asylum for her husband too. Merrick refused. He had understood the arrangements he made with Theon Grady and Claire had to comply regardless of the cost. She could not understand how her brother could read her written word, stating the threat of death over her husbands’ head and the prostitution she would be faced with if she failed to produce a male heir. He had no sympathy, told her to stay put and under no circumstances would he send for her.

Claire had worried about it for days. When it was just her there was no issue but now she had something to protect. Her body was already showing the signs, she had a feeling for a few weeks now. There was a slight pouch that had appeared on her stomach, once soft skin now firm, larger than she had remembered but not enough to be clearly noticed. She had passed it off to the diet she had succumbed to full of rich meats and hearty vegetables, nothing of the ladylike meals she had picked at in The Citadel. She was scared that the child forming under her skin was a girl, committing her parents to an awful fate where her uncle would not save them. Claire tried not to focus on it. Instead, she willed her thoughts to consider the baby a boy, to believe it firmly enough that it stirred in her bones and encouraged  _his_ development.

For the moment, it was all out of her mind. Out by the cliffs, sea breeze rustling through her hair, Claire could only think of a happy future. She knew, deep down, that it could happen. She wished, with all her might, as she kissed him ferociously, that they could have the happily ever after she had been reading about since she was a girl.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen reveals the Grady family history and their place in the Four Kingdoms as ruthless murders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, again, to everyone who comes to this with great comments, HCs and questions. Y'all are the best!

 

‘The girl is pregnant.’ Theon gruffed his statement as he slid into a chair beside his son. Owen nodded, not looking up from his plate. He was not surprised that his father knew, word was bound to spread. Aside from the handmaid that came with her, Zara, Owen knew his staff were not trained to keep secrets. He had a few he trusted but not with everything, his father always had a sum of money their help would always sway for. Mae kept his secrets but even she was not immune to his father’s control. He threatened her life, her job and her family. Owen knew it wasn’t her fault and in that knew to keep his deepest feelings close to his chest. Mae in the least, always reported back to him that his father made her talk and Owen did his best to keep her from those situations.

Anyone could have told him about Claire. They were all watching her like a hawk from the moment she arrived, ensuring that a single thing wasn’t missed. They could be married, Owen knew, as did the staff, but nothing solidified the marriage between the Dearings and the Gradys until a baby was born. Everyone was on high alert until then. Owen wouldn’t be surprised if Theon offered to pay the first chambermaid who noticed her mistress hadn’t bleed beyond the expected amount of time. Or that those who helped run her baths and dressed her — which was an exclusive task to Zara but often changed hands depending on the morning — were coerced into noticing the changes in her body before Claire herself was aware. Owen knew they gossiped, with Claire and amongst themselves. His wife would have insisted they did not share her news but money did not keep lips sealed for long. It outraged him that there were people walking the walls of his home, ready to tell his father anything they saw for a few pieces of gold.

He wanted to shield Claire from it all. He wanted to banish every and any person who dared share her secrets with his father. Owen would kill if he had to. He would do it for her and the baby growing in her belly, the  _boy_  who would secure her place amongst his household. He needed to start with his father, but Theon was clever. Someone was always watching and while Owen knew most loathed Theon, there were enough men with voices who would push him out of his father’s throne the second Owen reached for it. He and Claire would end up dead regardless of if his father lived or died.

The more he dwelled on the idea of his father threatening his wife, the angrier it made the man. He wanted to act but it was Claire’s voice in his head that stopped him. There was too much at risk. She was confident her baby was a boy, sure even as her belly started to round. That would be enough to keep Theon happy. They didn’t need any more than that. They could wait him out.

‘I was starting to think you couldn’t perform.’ His father snickered. ‘Shame really, I was warming up to the idea of keeping her to myself.’

‘The baby will be a boy.’ Owen told his father, barely looking up from his late breakfast. He knew that would be Theon’s next leer. Owen and Claire bought themselves time in the small swell of her belly but the baby had to be a male heir to solidify their future. ‘She has a bloody appetite.’ He had been watching Claire closely in the last two weeks, noting how much she was eating and sleeping, confident it was important to ensure she had enough of both. She had swiped meat from his plate every night without fail even after he had slid her an extra share. It was only a night or two ago that Owen had realised how quickly a pregnancy was affecting her. He had been sharing his food — gaining an extra serving — with her for weeks now, a little over a month as his men teased she was joining their ranks in hunger. He had just thought she was too polite to ask for more or to admit that she hungered for more than the  _proper_  ladies of The Citadel. ‘There is no doubt she is growing a healthy boy; a warrior. She has started rounding out already, Mae says she expects the baby to be big. Strong.’ He caught movement in Blue’s ears, the wolf by his side lifting her head at the forcefulness in which her master was speaking.

Theon hummed, nodding towards his son with a far off look that suggested he had other plans. Owen wanted to wring his throat right then and there but faltered when he noticed a guard only a few feet away.

‘Well,’ His father cleared his throat. ‘I should go give the girl my congratulations.’ Theon’s grin was sly as he pushed himself into a stand, bored of his son already.

‘You are not to go near her, you hear me?’ Owen’s voice was loud, commanding as his eyes slipped from his father to the guard with his hand already on his sword. ‘I want you to leave my wife and my child alone. You have no need to speak with her, Father, she is not your property.’ His threats were unspoken. Theon understanding that his son wouldn’t stop at murder if harm came to the girl or the child. He grinned, a cunning smile biting at his lips as he nodded towards his son, silently agreeing.

Owen had no doubt that his father would break his command. No doubt that he would seek Claire out and call it a small accident. ‘Oh, but she is.’ Theon snickered, slipping out of the room as he left Owen gaping in his wake.

He left his breakfast without a second thought, pushing the plate away from him as Owen stormed out of the room through a different door. He liked to think himself clever like none one else knew the castle the way he did. He moved through the walls quickly, taking turns when appropriate before he reached the large door of his and Claire’s shared bedchambers. Owen pushed on the wood, letting the door swing open quietly, creaking as he slipped in and shut it behind him.

Every qualm in his mind cleared the second he spotted Claire’s red hair fanned across the pillow. He approached her quietly, noting she was still asleep, curled on her side with a hand holding onto the curve of her belly. She was starting to show, struggling to hide it under her clothes as everyone grinned at her when they saw her out. Their secret was slipping out of their control. Delta was curled at her feet, Echo lying on the floor beside Claire’s bedside. Owen knew that even though the animals looked to be sleeping, they were always on high alert. Claire was not thrilled with the eye of their protection but she accepted it upon Owen’s assistance. She tried to give them a wide berth, leaving the animals to their space but they had not understood to do the same for her. It had only been a few weeks but now, Claire was growing accustomed to their thick bodies knocking against her legs or brushing past her hand while she was reading. She had told Owen that they were surprisingly gentle, laugh on her tongue, as she recalled Echo nudging at Claire’s hand with a wet nose seeking out a scratch behind the ear she was growing fond of receiving.

He watched her with his breath caught in his lungs, his heart hammering in fear. Owen was terrified that his father would do something to her. He was petrified of the feelings that flared without his notice, the care and the compassion that was burning under his skin as he climbed into the bed beside her and tucked himself around her body. The wolves barely stirred, Blue finding her keep on the rug beyond the bed as Charlie barricaded her body against the door.

Claire made a sound, whimpering slightly in her sleep as she rolled towards his body, one hand tucking itself against his chest as the other remained to protect their unborn child. Delta had the nerve to lift her head and sneer, threatening Owen before she left him be. He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing over her cheeks as his fingers buried themselves in her hair. He kissed her forehead tenderly, barely touching his lips to her skin as she sighed deeply, still asleep beside him for a minute more.

She didn’t wake until one of his hands joined hers above their growing child. Claire had startled, breath catching as her eyes snapped open. He recognised panic when he saw it, Owen had witnessed fear in the eyes of too many men. He immediately felt guilty for causing her a fright. His eyes caught the wild look in wide blue orbs. ‘Hey, it’s okay.’ His voice dropped to a whisper, his hand squeezing hers as he watched the tension in her face dissipate. ‘It’s just me.’ He let go of her hand, large fingers enclosing on her shoulder as he squeezed, seeking out to comfort the raging thud in her chest. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘Wasn’t you.’ Claire shook her head, trying to shake off his worries, an embarrassed flush climbing across her cheeks as she tried to bury her face against his neck. ‘Just a nightmare.’ She ignored the fact that he was tense, panic climbing up Owen’s spine. ‘Its nothing.’ If she could merge their skin to occupy one being, Owen and Claire occupying the same body, she would.

‘Did you start the day without me?’ Claire asked, mumbling against his chest.  

It was not uncommon for them to start the day ahead of the other. Owen had many things to see to and often was an early riser. In the past two weeks, since he had taken her to the view on the cliffs and professed a certain kinship with her, Owen always came back to have breakfast with Claire. No matter what he had started his day with, he was there in the main hall or their bedchambers eating breakfast.

‘The day has left you in its dust.’ He grinned at her, commenting that it was well past morning and he had suffered a cold breakfast alone because he had grown too hungry to wait. He couldn’t keep his hands from her, running fingers over her hair and cheeks as relief settled over his shoulders. He had gotten here first. Theon had not had a chance to lay a hand on her but from the hint of her nightmare, it was likely his father stalked her restful dreams.

Owen was trying to allow Claire her sleep. It was all she seemed capable of in the past few days: sleep and being sick and thus he left her to those things with a slight grimace and a hope that it would get better. Mae promised his tired wife would remain that way well until the babe had grown.  She had to assure that there was no connection between Claire’s behaviour and what had happened to his previous wife. Margot had been ill  _and_ pregnant. Claire was just the latter. Owen felt for her, chest aching when he glanced at her tired eyes. He stopped waking her and instructed Zara leave her be until Claire was ready to rise on her own.

‘But, I have returned.’ Owen grinned at her, kissing the top of her hair as Claire rested her cheek against his chest. He could not get her up to speed with the morning's activities nor would he enlighten his wife on his father’s visit. Owen didn’t want to leave her side and when he asked her how she was feeling — Claire’s answer being an admission of illness — Owen decided his only option was to lie in with her. If his father did come knocking — which Owen doubted he would visit their private chambers — at least he would be there to act as a buffer between the two. ‘How much do you know about my family?’ Owen asked her quietly, feeling the twirl of Claire’s fingers against his chest, nimble digits sneaking past the fabric of his shirt. She hummed, admitting there wasn’t much she had been taught as a girl.

‘Beyond what you told me about your mother and sister, my father only had us taught that Grady’s were not to be trusted. Feared even. That your clan came from deceitful men who raped and murdered to get where you are now.’ She told him quietly. ‘I do not think that of you.’ Claire pulled her head back to meet his eyes, ensuring that he accepted her statement.

Owen chuckled, ‘That is mostly true. Not any longer. We keep to ourselves thanks to the reputation of our forefathers. But, Claire, what you must understand about my family is that we did what we had to in order to survive. My grandfathers built this castle centuries ago.’ He told her, shifting in his position slightly so he had a hand on the flat of her back, copying the patterns she drew on his chest. ‘They were honest men, mostly quiet farmers who had fought alongside the Gods at the dawn of time but now wanted peace. They were happy to work hard labour, taking on any work a weaker man could not. We kept to ourselves, prided on our strength and our peace. Some even say we came from the Gods themselves, given to the Earth when the skies broke.’ Owen didn’t know how much of that he thought was true, his blood from the Gods themselves? It had seemed like a wonderful story when he was a boy, a plausible one but also one without merit. It had not stopped members of his family being hunted for centuries by the odd man who thought he could prove it, cutting them open and making them bleed in the belief that their blood would make others immortal. Such a case hadn’t happened for years.

She was listening intensely, so quiet Owen thought she was asleep but their hands, still joined on her belly were given a squeeze and he was reassured that she was listening. A story could only end badly when it started with brave and peaceful men.

‘You knew of The Dunwich that lived here before, no?’ It was only three decades ago that The Grady’s claimed The East, sometime before Claire was born but not too long that it was completely forgotten. It still sat within her father’s reign. She nodded softly, remembering that part of their history. ‘They were stupid men, still, war hungry from a battle with the Gods. They were down on their luck, sick of their home in the marshes. Instead of moving on, even merging clans with the West or the North they decided to attack Grey Castle. They did not want to be a  _little_  household anymore. They wanted to be a big name forever remembered in history. They slaughtered every man woman and child they could get their hands on until my ancestors begged them to stop. They pleaded that the Dunwich’s could have Grey Castle if what was left of the Grady’s could live out their days. I don’t know if the Dunwich’s realised how lucky they had been in catching my family off guard and successfully taking over but they let what was left go. My family spent decades growing their numbers in the Isles. We were forced to live it rough, many continued to die due to ill conditions. But, we preserved, we grew strong. We even made a few allies.’ Owen squeezed her, ensuring Claire was still there as he lay on his back, mind caught in an old family memory passed from son to son like it was their own; hundreds of years worth of vengeance waiting to resurrect itself.

‘The Dunwich’s knew where we had relocated and often sent out men to ensure we were not going to thrive. Sometimes they took our food. Sometimes they raped the women. They killed babies and anyone else who stood in their way. They tried to keep us like pets. Using us whenever they grew bored. A few of the Grady clan found themselves working within the halls of Grey Castle but as soon as they were found out for plotting treason they were killed. The isolation and hard times had driven parts of my family mad, it was hunger and frost numbing our minds, a belief that the Gods had abandoned us in a great time of need that encouraged my great-great-great grandfather to attack eligible homesteads. We did as everyone else had done; married our sons and daughters off into homes that would gain us leverage, gain us men for a battle. We only had so many sons my grandfather thought it would be wiser to kill for the remaining men we needed. They were desperate for a resolution, sick of hearing about The Dunwich’s and Grey Castle like they had belonged their all their years. I am not proud of that dark past, the days in which we turned out backs on the Gods and turned this land to death and decay. It was my father’s father, Alon, who was the one to finally bring us back to Grey Castle. There were many deaths, Claire, but we could not stop the destruction The Dunwich’s brought upon themselves. They would not surrender and my grandfather, with my father fighting by his side, a little older than I am now, were not going to leave  _any_ semblance of that family behind. They spent centuries proving that they could not be trusted. History forgets that The Dunwich were not kind and that we only retaliated with the same hate they threw towards us. The bad name my family gained was all on The Dunwich’s, it was their past, their history and they passed it off to the lesser man and we took it. My grandfather and my father were still fighting the repercussions of retaking  _our_  home when I was born. It has taken my whole life for the Four Kingdoms to let us be one again. Despite how anyone acts or what anyone says, your brother sending you to me was the final promise that we could go back to being the clan we were meant to be centuries ago.’

Claire sat up, his hand sliding off her belly as she held her hands in small fists against his chest. He watched her hair float off her shoulder, long and soft, still smelling sweetly of flowers and the reminder that he had caught sight of Zara washing it for her last night. There were tears in her green eyes, bubbling and burning as she tried to blink them back. ‘Owen,’ She breathed his name delicately. ‘I had no idea.’ He cupped her face, his large calloused hand, foraged from the blood and flesh of the Gods themselves mighty against her dainty face.

‘It is not your fault, Claire. You only learnt what your father wanted you to learn. When you were a girl, my family was still fighting to defend this place. I need you to know that our son will never have to do such a thing. No one will rival his throne it is  _his_ and his alone.’ She nodded, teeth sinking into her lip as a lone tear slipped down her cheek. ‘My father is a bitter old man, he was raised by bitter old men, angry and vengeful. He spent his life defending this castle from those who thought we did not deserve it. It is no excuse for the person he is but know, I am the first in a long line of Grady reared men who are intent on getting back to our peaceful roots. Blood of the Gods or not, they are smiling down on us, they are aware of the work we are doing and they are happy.’ His hand found the bump of their child, eyes on the sheer marvel of it before he turned his gaze back to her face. She kissed him, a little over eager as their teeth knocked together.

‘You know what happens to peaceful men?’ Claire asked timidly. ‘They die.’ She had history books to prove it.

Her husband chuckled, ‘Good thing we have a rough past than’. She felt his muscles flex under her body. Claire had not forgotten the stature of his men. The Grady’s were right to be feared in their height and width, the muscle under their skin bulging. He wanted peace and he would kill for it.

Owen was still rough around the edges. He promised peaceful ways but still had his family’s long history to knock out of his head. He was gruff and stern, could not speak to her  _properly_  half of the time and refused a bath when he didn’t have time.

Claire had been fearful when Merrick sent her to him, unsure of what the Grady’s would have in store for her. Lying in bed with Owen, their child growing safely between them, his honesty still swirling around her ears; Claire was sure she fit right in.

She could resonate with their battle. Claire would do anything to survive and keep what was rightfully hers.  

‘He will have you for a father,’ Claire squeezed the hand that joined hers on her stomach. ‘I would consider him very lucky.’ Her smile was soft, generous as she blinked up at him, fighting away an emotion Claire did not want to face. ‘I will defend him.’ She told her husband, conviction strong. ‘No matter what. No matter whom it is against. He is  _my_  boy. I will not let a single soul stand in his way.’

With his lips pressed to her forehead in a long and gentle kiss, Owen grinned. ‘See, you do relate to my girls.’ He chuckled, feeling the rise of Claire brow against his lips. ‘Ferocity. The good kind.’ He smiled, pulling his head back to catch her expression. ‘Protective mama wolf.’ He kissed the tip of her nose just as she scrunched it up in a distaste. ‘What? It’s a compliment.’ She remained unconvinced. ‘And you like the girls.’

Claire shrugged. ‘It’s better than  _Princess_.’ She whispered eyes stuck on his.

‘Oh no, you’re always going to be  _Princess_ to me. Our boy can call you  _Mama Wolf_.’

Claire’s hand on his chest pushed down firmly as if she was trying to push away from him. She didn’t move. It wasn’t her intention. ‘No, he will call me  _Mama_. Nothing else. No silly little names. You will not persuade him otherwise.’

He gave his wife a serious nod and another gentle kiss on the top of her head. ‘Yes, Princess.’


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Owen have an argument about her safety before finding the middle ground. In the meantime, Claire learns something about Margot and her position with the Grady's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye. She's back.

 

‘Remind me again why I cannot use the real thing?’ Claire grumbled, a few steps behind her husband as she followed him across the training grounds. ‘Because I think it rather stupid to practice with wood like I am a little girl.’ She swung the wooden sword behind his back.

He turned, sick of her complaints as he stopped in the dirt. ‘You will train with wood to save your belly from being cut open.’ He told her bluntly, a compromise she wasn’t even aware of. Owen wanted her happy and comfortable at Grey Castle — Claire insisted sparring would be what soothed her soul and Owen knew sparring would be what got herself injured and their child lost. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her to be careful, Claire was skilled, Owen had seen it first hand. He didn’t trust others to be just as cautious.

He saw his wife roll her eyes, wooden sword limp at her side as her fingers twitched against it. ‘Do you really think me so clumsy?’ Owen shook his head, deep sigh dropping from his chest. She had fought for her right to hold a bow and a sword in his training grounds months ago — had proved herself — Claire wasn’t going to let go of it lightly. ‘I am of more harm to myself with this — this  _toy_  than what I am with a proper sword in my hand.’ But the wood would not slice through her skin causing her blood to spill upon the floor. The wood, at best, would give her a splinter he would have to suck from her finger while she sat ill-tempered in front of him. ‘There is no use in training with this  _thing._ It throws my balance off completely, the weight is incorrect!’

Owen didn’t want her unhappy but some small part of him enjoyed her rage, glad to see a fire still burned in her spirit. ‘Don’t train at all, then.’ He offered with a shrug tempted to suggest that her balance was thrown thanks to the significant swell in her midsection.

Claire huffed, ‘Helena arrived two days ago. What was the use of fetching her for me?’

‘You were not pregnant at the time. How was I to know she would take months to get here?’ As he promised, Owen sought out the most worthy swordsman of Claire’s time. Helena’s response came as a surprise but a welcome one. It had marvelled him with gregarious humour that it was a woman responding to his call for a teacher. He could not think of any better opponent for Claire than one of her shared gender. His men were below her, unworthy to clash swords or dwindle in her time.

The other woman was a knight, not taken seriously by her peers and thus was looking for ventures elsewhere. Training with Claire was beyond her pay grade but Owen viewed the woman as valuable in other means. He couldn’t always watch Claire, and his wolves couldn’t always be with her. A personal knight could. His wife was thrilled at the sight of Helena, practically jumping with joy and an overeagerness that begged to get a sword in her hand. Owen had managed to convince Claire to wait until the other woman settled in, and once that had passed for an excuse, he handed her the wooden sword.

She didn’t like it. Not a single bit.

‘It’s only until the baby is born,’ He reminded her. ‘No one is allowed to hand you anything remotely close to a weapon until then.’

Claire scoffed, arms crossed over her small protrusion, child’s sword poking out. ‘I suppose I’ll be eating dinner with my hands then?’ She asked eyebrow cocked as she tapped an impatient foot. Owen had known her to be spoilt and snobbish but nothing had prepared him for that tone.

He blinked at her, barely hesitating before he responded; ‘You can have a spoon’. Owen waited to see if she would stamp her foot, or kick up a great fuss. She only sighed, arms falling in defeat again as something in her face crumpled. He questioned briefly if she was going to cry, his resolve starting to melt in preparation to give in.

She didn’t, only frowned a little deeper as she dropped the toy in the dirt at her feet before she turned back to the castle. He did feel bad. Owen didn’t want to make her upset, or restrict what she could and could not do but he was at a loss with this. The last thing he wanted to hear was that Claire had encountered an accident with her life or with their child’s life. She wanted to live like the men did with freedom and a weapon strapped to her hip free for use whenever she pleased. She could, once their child was born. They needed a male heir healthy and thriving before Owen could let go of the reins in which he held his wife back.

He knew, deep down, that she understood. Claire was not reckless with her life nor was she stupid. He had full faith that she understood the ramifications of losing their child too early. His father would not be sympathetic to any accident Claire encountered. If their son was born cold, lips blue and body lifeless they would still have to fear the blade of a sword.

[…]

Claire felt heavy as she wandered about the castle aimlessly. ‘What’s wrong, child?’ Mae’s voice was soft, reaching her against cool sandstone walls as Claire turned with a sigh. She nodded, keeping up appearances with a small smile as Mae’s hand found her arm. ‘Oh, don’t bother lying to me.’ She swatted at Claire playfully, the both of them walking in step. ‘He is trying his best to look after you.’

Claire hummed. ‘Keeping me away from simple pleasures is not looking after me.’

‘And in a few months your babe will be born and you can go back to the things you once enjoyed.' The fact that the older woman sounded exactly like her husband only enraged Claire. She understood the words they were saying, the importance of her safety, but she bored senseless. ‘I think you forget, m’lady, that a woman’s place is to produce children for her husband. Your happiness comes second to that along with the joys you revel in. Owen does not want to see you miserable but he does not want to see his head on the chopping block either. It is no secret that your lives are on the line, m’lady. You need to value the comfort and security of that one.’ She pointed at Claire’s round stomach.  

‘I am sick of being treated like a child, Mae. I know what is at stake here but I also know where my personal boundaries lie. I would just like, for an hour, to be  _trusted_.’  

Mae clicked her tongue. ‘He trusts you, it is others he does not trust. When you put yourself out there you leave yourself open for others. Owen would never forgive himself if that new lady knight was sent here for your head or if someone happened to stage an accident in the armoury. There are forces out there who wouldn’t hesitate in causing you harm.’

‘I should still be allowed to spar — or practice my archery. He can watch over me during both of those tasks, Mae. I am just asking for a little time.’

Mae hummed. ‘We lost Margot when she was pregnant.’

Claire nodded. ‘He told me.’

‘She was a little further along than you are now.’ The other woman squeezed Claire’s arm as they found themselves in one of several courtyards. It wasn’t until she stopped that Claire realised Delta and Echo had followed them, neither creature making a sound as they padded through the halls. She found a bench to perch on, sitting without hesitation as she huffed.

Delta approached her slowly, languid as if she was trying not to act too eager before she slid her head onto Claire’s lap. The girl let her fingers twist in the soft fur on the wolves head. ‘It’s not going to happen to me, I am perfectly healthy.’ Other than a terrible bought of fatigue and an issue with keeping her food down, all of which Claire was assured was perfectly normal, she was fine. Both symptoms were fading, acting as a distant memory as she tried to get back to the things she enjoyed.

‘He has a right to be worried.’

‘I’m not saying he doesn’t!’ Claire raised her voice unintentionally, irritation rising in her tone. She understood what was at stake. She was not a child in this, not innocent and blind. She understood what would happen if things went awry. She closed her eyes, two hands on her belly as she tried to breathe deeply, focusing on calming herself as she tried to imagine Owen’s hands in her hair. ‘I’m just saying he doesn’t  _need_  to be. I’m not letting anything happen to this baby, boy or girl. They are safe. My body will not betray me. I will not betray myself.’ She levelled Mae with the same glare she wished she could have given Theon on their first encounter. Claire didn’t have the courage then, but with Grady blood developing within her, she was starting to find the courage now.

Mae moved to hush her and Claire snapped, knowing exactly what had triggered the paranoia in her confidant. ‘Saying  _girl_  will not immediately render my unborn child female. I am allowed to use the word. It will not change who they turn out to be.’ Mae jumped again, eyes scattered as she checked every open space, every doorway and window looking for spying faces.

‘It is best you not use that word for your own safety.’ Her warning was cryptic at best, enough that Claire stilled the strokes of her fingers at Delta’s ears to frown at the other woman. Mae sighed, hands pooled in her lap. She knew she should not be telling but she was about to say it anyway. ‘Margot was confident her baby was a girl. She told everyone she met, told them all she was naming her baby Olivia and how she would be the sparkle in her daddy’s eye. Theon was not impressed. I don’t know if he was sick of hearing her boast about it or if it was sickness making him snap, he had her poisoned. Slowly. Little amounts in her food each meal until she could do nothing but lie in bed and wait for death. He could have just thrown her in the cells and had her killed, he could have hired someone to slaughter her. But no, he wanted it done in such a way that Owen would never suspect anyone had a hand in it. The boy doesn’t know. He thinks she was ill. You mustn’t repeat this, m’lady, but you need to understand the power of words. If Theon so much as  _thinks_  that you consider your baby a girl he will not wait until it is born to find out. I was told by the healer that Margot’s baby was a boy. They pulled him from her body when she died so he could be his own body and no longer part of his mother’s with the Gods. A boy. She was so confident it was a girl.  Margot was wrong. And Theon, he had only prolonged his son’s suffering.’

Claire stuttered, one hand holding tight to Delta’s fur as the other held steady to the curve of her growing child. Sensing her slight distress, Echo was up from her place in the grass, standing on the other side of Claire’s knees as both wolves boxed her in.

‘Owen — Owen needs to know.’

Mae shook her head. ‘You cannot tell him, M’lady. It will do him no good.’ Claire could only blubber, mouth opening and closing as she tried to process what she heard. ‘If you cannot hold onto it, I beg you wait until the babe is born, wait until he is safe before you tell Lord Owen. He will not take to the news lightly. He  _will_  confront his father. He  _will_  kill Theon for what he did. You’re a smart girl, Claire. You must know by now that isn’t the wisest move to make.’

What could she say to that? How was one supposed to react upon the news of a slow murder involving a woman and her unborn child, a woman Claire was there in The East to replace. Theon’s threats came flooding back to her, long since shoved out of her thoughts as Claire dealt with immediate issues that came with her health before the axe that hung above her head. She could feel the cold metal resting against her neck, ever-present and closer than she had been prepared to admit.

‘Be careful, M’lady, that’s all I am trying to say. Your baby will be a boy, I know it, you and Lord Owen will run this castle once Our King has passed his crown on. Don’t you worry.’ Claire reached out to touch a comforting hand to Claire’s shoulder. It was Delta who reacted first, snarling before Mae could touch her mistress. The older woman retracted, fear in her eyes at the large and dominating beast. ‘I just meant to warn you.’ Mae tried again. ‘I didn’t want to upset you.’ Claire could not deny the hot tears on her cheeks or the cool chill of fear that was racing up and down her spine, sending shockwaves into her fingertips.

‘Please leave.’ Claire requested, trying to shake off the growl in her throat that sounded too much like the animals at her side.

Mae disappeared with a last apology before Claire let the tears break free on a violent sob. Echo whimpered, nudging her head onto what was left of Claire’s lap as she turned wide eyes up at her master’s mate.

It was warm out like it always was in The East but Claire couldn’t shake the cold feeling of her skin as she wrapped her arms around her middle and tried to find some heat. Her mind was caught in two places, pushing her child out of her head and drawing him in closer. She did not want to think about the ramifications of Theon’s threats. They had bought themselves time when her belly started to swell but they had a small number of weeks left until her doctor expected the arrival of her baby. There was a chance she could give birth to a girl. Hearing that Theon had slowly poisoned Owen’s first wife, chilled Claire to the core. She had no doubt that the eldest Grady was capable of such deceit. But, the news only encouraged fearful thoughts. What would he do to her husband if their baby was a girl? Would he do what he had done to Margot so his men wouldn’t notice? Would he force Claire to sit and watch as her husband died slowly? She could not bear the thought of losing the man she loved, losing her child and being left to watch it all happen before her.

Claire could only hope that when it came down to it. Theon would kill her too. If not, she was going to do everything in her control to take her fate into her own hands. Owen said the Gods were smiling down on them, they were happy — then they would not allow the senseless murder of her  _good_  husband and innocent child.

She heard his whistle. Owen. The sound he made when he was trying to hunt down the wolves in the long and winding halls of the castle. In locating Delta and Echo, he was trying to find Claire.  Delta answered back, not quite a howl or a bark, but something distinctly conversational.  _Over here._ She straightened her shoulders, hands quickly wiping the tears from her face as she heard the distinct sound of his sword rattling in the sheath at his hip with every step of his gait. ‘Hey, there you are.’ He acted as if it was all a coincidence. ‘Shit, Claire, have you been crying?’ He was on his knees in front of her in a second, hands wrapped around a wrist and an ankle as he tried to catch her eye. ‘I, Claire —  _Princess —_ I didn’t mean to make you upset.’

She wanted to tell him everything that Mae had said, wanted to blurt the truth about his father and Margot, but she couldn’t find the words not when his eyes were swimming with concern. She shook her head. ‘I’m being ridiculous.’ She tried to play it off.

‘I mean what I said about sparring, I don’t want you doing it. All I can see is you getting hurt. But, I thought of a compromise.’ Her eyes were wide and on him, watching every twitch in his face as she tried to push Mae’s revelations out of her mind. Instead, she wanted to focus on the wonderful man in front of her that was trying to fix everything unfair in the world just so she could smile.

Claire couldn’t help but consider how far they had come. The second she saw him, standing at the altar minutes before they were announced husband and wife, while he walked towards her bloody and unclean; she loathed him. Now, she was pondering the pain of living without him.

‘I couldn’t see the harm in a little hunt.’ He offered as Claire felt herself perk up. ‘Rabbits, only Claire. Maybe a goat or two. No bears, no boar, nothing that’ll fight back. You sit at a safe distance with your arrow — and I know you can do thirty yards ‘cause I’ve seen it.’ Owen waited for a beat. ‘Will that make you stop crying?’ He asked, thumbs raising to wipe at the tears on her cheeks. Claire nodded. ‘Helena’s coming with us.’ He dropped the clause on her, subtly, in a moment where her heart was swooning and she couldn’t say no.

Owen stood, arms outstretched to help his wife stand. She accepted his hands, pulling herself upright but not before dropping back down to the bench with a surprised gasp. Both hands were on her stomach, as Owen dropped back to his knees again, his hands trying to cover hers in panicked movements as he asked what was wrong. ‘He’s moving.’ She told him, marvel spread across her cheeks in a wide mystified grin. ‘I’ve felt it for weeks but that — that was something else. Here,’ she grabbed his trembling hands big and wide on the expanse of her belly as she applied pressure onto the left side. The baby kicked back. ‘And here.’ The feeling moved quickly to the opposite end as Claire dragged her husband’s hand over the cloth of her thin skirt to the other side.

‘He’s fast!’ Owen grinned at her, cheeks wide, teeth flashing as he sat with a hand on either side of her belly desperate to feel it again. Claire grinned back, new tears fresh on her cheeks as she cried on a happy little laugh. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t go hunting.’ Owen sobered, raising worried eyes to his wife’s gleeful face. He suddenly remembered this was all very real. His baby was real. His  _son_  could get hurt.

Claire stood, making him stumble a little as she started moving for the armoury that kept her bow and quiver. ‘I’d like to see you try to stop me.’ She hollered back at him with a wink, knowing he could if he wanted to. At the end of the day, Claire was willing to play dirty and she knew her husband wasn’t willing to hurt her.

She would get her way. Just as she always would.

Owen watched her with concern. ‘Are you sure you’re up for it?’ It wasn’t just the baby he was worried about, but also Claire qualm for death. He was starting to realise the offer was a stupid one.

She nodded. ‘Of course. I’ve got the blood of the Gods surging inside of me.’ Owen watched Claire grin, her hands rubbing small circles across her stomach. She was glowing with pride. ‘I suppose even humble farming people can stomach a little hunt.’ She winked at him, drawing back on his family history and the promise he made to domesticate their lives. ‘Keep up,’ Claire commanded, already several steps ahead of him, eager for the game he was willing to teach her.

Owen shook himself from his admiration of his wife before jogging into step beside her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Owen celebrate a wedding anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one week it’s almost like I found my groove again!

 

‘East Court will replace the livestock you lost.’ Claire announced, civilian standing a few feet from the throne she occupied. Owen kept his distance, knowing the loss of livestock had been his fault. More accurately, blame lingered over the heads of the four beasts that followed him. ‘And I promise, if my husband’s wolves cause you any more grief, I will see to it myself that they are punished.’ He had not announced himself or made a noise, regardless, Claire’s eyes found his in the room, gaze unforgiving in just the way she had promised.

She could be kind and cruel. She wanted the opportunity to prove it and Owen was pleased to see her sat in East Court, throne supporting her as Grady subjects trusted Claire to pass the right judgement. Two of the wolves she promised to end had their skirmishes continued sat on either side of her throne. They were unbothered by the words she said, the threat of their lives only causing a slight twitch in their ears as they sat tall beside his wife.

He loved watching her. Claire commanded the room with a power he had never seen. Theon never had the patience for the civilian court, to hear out civil debates and keep the grounds peaceful. Anyone who came to Owen with complaints of a threat to their livestock or land was seen to personally. He took too long to solve issues because he refused to send someone else. Owen thought himself wholly responsible for the people that lived off his father’s land.

‘You’re blind to those beasts.’ Claire hummed, East Court closed for the rest of the afternoon as she left the throne and crossed the room to join him. Owen shrugged with a wide grin. ‘I understand that you love them but they are wild animals and they are being destructive.’

‘I’ll feed them more.’ He was dismissive. ‘You don’t know that it was the girls.’ Claire crossed her arms over her chest, her disgruntled stance resting atop the large swell of her belly. He wanted to chuckle, share his mirth in how humorous she looked, trying to be mad whilst heavily pregnant. But, Owen knew her anger was scornful. She would hurt him if she felt it was well deserved. ‘There are wolves in the woods you know.’

‘The farmers say the wolves in the woods don’t approach the properties.’

‘And you’ll believe the farmers over my word?’ He was defensive, a little annoyed and trying not to allow the temper to bother him. Owen didn’t show up in court to start an argument, he came to seek her out, knowing they were closing the doors a few minutes before he arrived.

Claire readjusted her stance, shoulders rolling as she peered around his side. ‘Where are Blue and Charlie?’ She felt that statement would prove her point. Owen liked to boast the domestication of his animals but he wasn’t in complete control. His two head girls were missing from his side, her husband answering that he didn’t want them in court with civilians.

‘I ain’t here to argue with you, Princess.’ His hand found the back of her elbow, squeezing softly as he tried to direct her outdoors. The truth of the matter was, Owen had occasions where he didn’t know where the girls were. He respected their space and they were never gone for long. He didn’t own them, considered them to be wild but trusted that they had his and Claire’s wellbeing at heart.

Claire sighed, falling into step beside him as they left Grey Castle’s court. ‘I’m just saying, your father cannot afford to replace every chicken, sheep or cow that gets devoured in the night. We live off what they farm too.’ Owen hummed, humouring her. ‘You know, this is how empires fall.’ She was trying to be helpful and he loved that she was aware of these issues, concerned about the livelihood of his people, but these were  _his_  animals that were at blame and Owen couldn’t sit there and take it. ‘It’s okay to admit that you don’t know where they are sometimes.’

Owen shook his head. ‘They never go too far.’ Was all he told her as he beamed, sun greeting their faces, castle breaking away from their backs. Blue and Charlie were sitting outside, lying really, Blue with her head on Charlie’s back. Echo and Delta picked up their step, no longer trailing behind their masters as they moved to join their sisters.

‘Where are we going?’ Claire asked, spotting her horse saddled up and tied beside Owen’s. Her husband shrugged, grin climbing across his cheeks as he took her hand. ‘Are you finally going to share whatever it is you have been doing in secret?’ She teased, interest getting the better of her as his glee squeezed her hand.

‘Are you going to be okay to ride?’ He asked, caution suddenly dawning on him.

Claire propped a hand on her hip. ‘I’m pregnant, not confined to my bed.’ He could argue that she was a few months earlier, pregnancy sickness keeping her tucked between the sheets of their bed as she hid for days on end, willing the dizzying headaches to go away. She was mobile again, her churning stomach turned solid as she went about her duties in East Court or continued to pester Owen for a real sword between small hunting trips.

That was when she could find her husband. He had been mysteriously busy, promising he had something planned for her but unwilling to share in what exactly. Claire was sure he just didn’t want to be bothered, the man growing impatient with a lack of space between them as her activities were restricted.

She pushed up on her toes to kiss his cheek fondly, her hand tight on his shoulder. She appreciated his worry, no matter the capacity or how he expressed it. He was right to be concerned, Claire was sure, with her belly as round as it was, that she should not be mounting a horse. Despite all that, Claire was going to follow no matter where he was taking her.

Owen watched her for a second, internally accessing whether it was right to potentially put his pregnant wife in harm's way. She only stood in front of him with her arms crossed over her swelling belly, face defiant as she stared him down.

[…]

It was a nice day for a ride. The perfect kind where the sun shone, warmth broke by a slight breeze as the trees whistled above their heads. Owen kept the pace excruciatingly slow despite Claire’s complaints that she could walk faster.

He was being cautious and if she took a minute to breathe rather than being annoyed by his care, Claire would be in awe. It was refreshing to know her husband wanted her safe and sound, secure and comfortable which had been a promise long before their child made an appearance in her womb. Claire felt settled in the security of his watch, comforted that he had her back despite the threats of his father looming over her head. It could easily have gone the other way, boy standing by the man who raised him no matter the risk it would take on other lives.

She was trying not to think about it too much. Instead, Claire wanted to focus on the cool air on the bare skin of her neck, how she wished it could blow right through the dress she wore to caress her hot skin. She listened to the movement in the woods, the rattle of leaves and the crunch of twigs underfoot. If she was quiet and her focus was drawn just so she could hear the scurry of little animals or the chirp of small birds.

She knew where they were going before the journey was over. They had been out there a few times in the last handful of months and even though Claire had not ventured out there recently, she recognised the path he was taking.

It wasn’t long before the cliffs broke out in front of her, wide expanse of the ocean stretching before her eyes as she soaked it all in. Claire felt settled, every fibre of her being relaxing in the open grass and wild waters.

Her eyes teared, husband beside her helping Claire down from her horse as he kissed her cheek. ‘I have missed this place.’ She told him softly, breathless as she inched closer to the view, Echo bumping against her leg as the wolf followed her closely. His beasts had been weaving in and out of the horses’ way the whole ride, causing amuck as they hunted down rabbits along the path. For the most part, they stuck by Claire and Allegra.

Owen had made good on his promise. A small cottage stood tall and proud just before the woods stretched into tall trees. It was set back from the cliffs, almost hidden at the end of the clearing but noticeable to Claire’s watery eyes. Her husband had to turn her towards it before she realised.

She gasped, surprise catching in the back of her throat as her hands clung to his arm, squeezing tight as she turned her face to gape at him. ‘I promised.’ He told her, leaning in to kiss her again. ‘And, it’s our wedding anniversary. I thought you deserved something of your own.’

‘I — Owen.’ She wanted to blame her tears on the baby, her head in the wrong place as she stared at the thatched roof and the shutters, every small detail making it look more and more like a cottage from the edge of town. ‘How did you?’ It explained why he kept disappearing on her, his men conveniently unaware of their Lord as Bart tried to distract her for an afternoon or two.

Her husband shrugged, arm enlaced with hers. ‘Called in a lot of favours to have it finished quickly. You deserve it, Princess. You deserve the world.’ He kissed her again, this time capturing her chin with his thumb and forefinger as he directed his mouth to hers. She gave in without a fight, kissing him back with gusto as her disbelief transferred itself to her lips.

‘I don’t even know where to begin in thanking you.’

He shook his head. ‘You’re giving me a son, that is thanks enough.’

It was perfect. Enough to make her forget they were the heirs of a throne for a few days or a few hours. Claire could think herself and Owen as simple folk with no worries as their son slept peacefully in the fresh air away from the cold and hostile stone of the castle.

It was exactly the escape she had dreamed of.

‘Here, I want to show you something.’ He took her hand, pulling Claire towards the cottage and leading her inside.

The place was spacious and fully functioning as a home. They had a kitchen and a table to eat at, a warm fire to sit in front of and cosy chairs to hold them captive. The cottage only had one room, sitting on the second floor with full view of their living space. The bed was wide, Claire was sure it was a little bigger than the one they had in their cambers, this one designed to fit themselves and their toddler son, who would hopefully still be eager for a cuddle. Owen wouldn’t admit it out loud and Claire would pretend the idea hadn’t entered her mind but there was space for all four of their girls to climb up and nap with them if they so chose.

That wasn’t what Owen was trying to show her. He wanted Claire to be wooed by the whole cottage but the surprise came in something smaller. She noticed it when he helped her climb the stairs, instructing her to sit on the edge of the bed as he gallantly gestured towards a crib pressed against the wall.

Claire praised the piece of furniture, getting up to touch it as she ran her fingers along the engravings, touch inspecting the make as she stood in awe. ‘I made it.’ Owen told her, shyly. ‘It’s where I’ve been — out here, overseeing the cottage and chippin’ away at this.’ Claire caught and imperfection here and there, the wood bowing, something not quite linear but the crib was lovely, darling, the exact sort of thing she wanted her baby to sleep in. It was only better that her husband had made it.

‘I know I haven’t been the best husband.’ Owen announced, voice soft as he took a place on the edge of the bed, eyes not quite watching his wife with the crib he had made. Claire opened her mouth to protest. He had been nothing but kind and patient. He treated her to such lovely things, new clothes and a sparring partner worthy of her time. He built her a cottage and made a crib for their child. Claire would not hesitate in announcing he made her extremely happy.

Owen shook his head. ‘I have not been able to protect you from my father.’ She wanted to argue that Theon had not touched her. Beyond his words and her personal fears, she was safe from the man. ‘I should be doing something about him, Claire, I should —-‘

‘You know that it is treason.’ She warned. ‘You’re a smart man, Owen, you would not put me in danger like that.’

‘But I  _have_  hurt you and I have let you be hurt.’

Claire frowned, arms crossed over her chest as she watched him, waiting for the man to spit his words out. ‘You have done no such thing.’ She was stern.

Owen nodded. ‘Our wedding night.’ His words were so soft she barely heard him, Claire blinking as she watched his drooping shoulders.

‘Was our wedding night and despite it being less than pleasant it had to happen.’ Owen shook his head. ‘Owen, look at me.’ She waited for a beat, watching as the man dragged his eyes to hers. ‘You knew what your father would do. What he  _is_ capable of. If we did not consummate our marriage vows he would have been done with the both of us. We would have been over before we even had a chance. You knew that. Don’t you dare act like there wasn’t anything at risk.’ The lines on his face were angry and thick, the man nodding as he looked towards the window above their bed. ‘We were married a year ago. What was done is done and it is long behind us. I wish you would stop bringing it up just to torture yourself and to frustrate me.’ He nodded, grunting at her softly. ‘I did not want to fight with you today.’ It had been their third argument since waking.

‘The crib is beautiful, so is the house. Thank you for this life even when you think it isn’t perfect. I am happy, Owen.’ They had started off on the wrong foot a year ago but they had quickly realigned their path, the two of them caught on each other. ‘You need to worry less, everything will work out fine.’

She sat beside him. The bed dipped under her weight as Claire sighed. A damper had been put on the mood and she suddenly found herself lost in the situation. Claire shuffled to the middle of the bed, legs crossed as she watched the side of her husband’s face. ‘You know, he doesn’t have a name.’ She told him, a hand rubbing across her swollen middle.

‘We haven’t talked about that, have we?’ He turned to her, half mirroring her position as a single leg dangled off the side of the bed. Claire shook her head. They had not discussed the prospect of names for their child.

'I always thought I would name my sons after my brothers but given recent circumstances, I do not want to see my sons follow their footsteps.’ Claire had once admired her brothers, Merrick and Henry were everything to her as a girl. They had power and persuasion, everyone looked to them for an opinion and advice no matter the problem. Her brothers were confident, controlled and destined for greatness. She considered them role models, her heroes until Merrick shipped her off and neither Henry nor her father put in a good word to keep their sister and daughter around. ‘They are nothing to me now and if my sons  _dare_  to do what Merrick did, they will have to face my wrath.’

She was still trying to put her finger on the pulse of her betrayal. Owen had turned out to be the best match for her but Claire was not ever going to forgive the cold and ruthless way Merrick had shoved her out. She was lucky that Owen was good and kind. Her brothers were  _lucky_  that Owen was good and kind, they would not have seen their sisters wrath coming if they had sent her to a wicked man. They were not entirely in the clear. If Theon harmed her baby, not only would she tear the man apart but she would seek out Merrick and make him pay for it to.

Owen shook his head. ‘Our child should have his own name. Something strong like James or Adam.’ His wife crinkled her nose, displeasure colouring her cheeks. ‘What?’

‘They’re not very good.’

Owen laughed, the sound a bark as Echo jumped up on the bed between them. ‘You are ridiculous.’ He grinned at her, rolling his eyes as her hand found Echo’s soft fur.

‘I want to name him Humphrey.’ She told him, watching the same dissatisfied crinkle appear in the lines on his nose. ‘It means peaceful warrior. I thought you might find that fitting.’ She could see that he still didn’t like it but was trying to come around to the idea.

Owen’s grin was sly, slow as it crawled across his face. ‘Whatever makes you happy, Princess.’ He was sure that he could find a name to call his son when his wife wasn’t listening. She grinned, copying the sly quirk of his lip like she could read his thoughts.

‘Why so agreeable?’ She asked, smile climbing up her cheeks as she watched a fire start in his eyes.

Owen lent in without a word, only another quirk of his lip as he kissed her softly. ‘I love you, Princess.’ She met him for another kiss, their lips touching gracefully as her smile relaxed to something akin to peace. ‘It scares the shit out of me, but by the Gods, I love you.’

She watched him through lidded blue eyes, lashes kissing her cheeks as she blinked. He frustrated her beyond means on occasion, but he also did crazy wonderful things. He had a cottage built for her, secluded in a place she loved. He built a crib for their baby with incredible detail. He put  _her_  needs before his own and ensured she felt  _safe_  even when the odds were stacked against them. ‘Well,  _I_  love  _you_.’ She told him, hand reaching out to wrap her fingers around his. ‘You insufferable man.’ She giggled, pulling back as the lovely look on his face melted away to realisation.

Owen laughed, lunging at his wife despite the small gap between them as her back hit the mattress with the aid of his hands lowering her down. She squealed with glee, Echo jumping to a stand as she growled at Owen, in the protective mode before she realised they were playing.

‘You insufferable woman.’ Owen teased, rolling them so Claire was straddling him, back bending as she lent down to press her lips to his. ‘Happy anniversary, my love.’ He pulled himself up, half sitting as he met her for another kiss, one hand supporting the curve of her stomach, his fingers splayed across the width of their growing child.

‘We are going to conquer the worlds.’ She told him ever so quietly, her words a whisper and a promise that he almost missed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire’s fears for her life are heightened in the absence of her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all don’t react to the fluff as loudly as you do the angst. so here's more. (seriously though I have loved everyone who has taken time to leave comments and send me private messages, and those who've left me questions in my inbox. It's made this story so much fun to work on and makes me love it all the more! We're nearly done! Keep that energy going!)
> 
> how is there only two chapters left? are you shook? I am shook.

‘I don’t like this just as much as you do.’ Owen told his very pregnant wife with a worried frown. He didn’t want to leave her side. She was struggling to get up without assistance leaving Owen or Zara to help pull the woman and her big belly to her feet.

He didn’t like the thought of leaving her when she was so helpless. Not that his wife would admit she needed his help, his son too heavy in her womb and causing her grief. She was restless too, unable to sleep despite tired bags appearing under her eyes. She tossed and turned all night, unable to find a comfortable position and when she did, their son couldn’t settle, kicking from within as Owen mindlessly tried to soothe his son with easy and tired strokes over his wife’s belly. His son — now that he was infuriating his mother, the child had become solely Owen’s — would not relent. He was as restless as Claire in the coming end of her pregnancy.

‘There is unrest in the village. Something is out in the woods and it persists in killing livestock. We locked the girls up every night for a week.’ A move she remembered, restless Claire stuck listening to the whimper of loyal beasts desperate for their small freedoms. They had lasted one night locked in the barn until their whimpering drove Owen and Claire to the brink of frustration. The truth of the matter was, Owen slept better with the four creatures in his room, keeping guard of his sleeping wife.

They moved The Girls. Locking them in Owen and Claire’s bedchambers instead but still, the principle followed; they were locked up, unable to disappear down to the villages and yet livestock was still going missing.

‘It’s likely another pack of wolves or a group of bandits.’ He offered with a shrug as if the whole idea was simple. His knuckles pressed into the sole of her foot, eliciting a small moan from his wife as he rubbed her aching feet. ‘Traditionally, the husband and soon-to-be father would go on a hunt while his wife is in labour. We can count this as that. I’ll be gone a few days at most. I will be back for the birth of our son.’

Regardless of his promises, it didn’t sit right with Claire. The bigger she got only meant she wanted her husband around more. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing sight of the man, easily disappearing into the crowd or off doing something without her. He had duties to uphold and she had a baby to safely bring into the worth.

‘Interesting that it is the men who are celebrated but in a matter of weeks  _I_  am going to be the one doing all the hard work.’ She felt the ceremony was misplaced despite the party they had for the baby’s impending arrival in which each guest showered her with gifts and admiration.

Owen chuckled. ‘I will be celebrating you.’ He promised, pushing up onto his knees so he could lean in and kiss his wife’s cheek. ‘I need to see to this business, Princess. The sooner it is over with means there is more time for me to spend with you and the babe.’ His hands found her bulging belly, a palm on each side as his fingers pressed against her stomach playfully seeking out the stretch and kick of his boisterous little boy.

Claire only hummed, something in the back of her head not convinced. She really didn’t want him to leave. Mae’s words were still bothering her from a month ago. Margot had been killed. She did not die from an illness but a poisoning. With her husband leaving for a suspected few days, Claire saw herself as an open target. No one had taken a chance on her life since the attack on the castle but surely people would hear word of Lord Owen stepping out to put an end to the villager's problems. They would put two and two together, it was no secret that she was pregnant, no secret that her belly was getting too big to handle. Claire was a sitting duck.

‘I’m worried,’ She told him quietly. Worried the baby would come early. Worried that he wouldn’t be there if something went wrong. Worried that Theon would take an opportunity to strike at the empty nest.

Owen released a hand from her stomach where their child wasn’t kicking at his hand. ‘The Girls are staying here. All four of them. I trust them to guard you with their lives. Helena too.’ He didn’t break eye contact, green eyes seeping into blue as he squeezed her wrist.

Nothing was getting to Claire Grady.

[…]

Owen had never been disinterested in the road before. He used to love a spar of the moment hunt, he and his men. It was different without The Girls, no Blue clipping ahead of him on the road, keeping a lookout as they moved through dirt paths. There was no grizzle of Echo, bored behind him or Delta snapping at her sister to stay in line. Blue and Charlie were not fighting for dominance.  He felt bare without them, vulnerable and blind. He just hoped they were behaving for Claire.

He hand-selected three men to join him on the expedition, leaving his finest — once again — to stand guard with his wife. Claire meant more to Owen than he could believe. He really didn’t want to leave her side but he owed it to his people and his wolves to put an end to the rumours and issues The East were having.

Three men were all he thought he needed. They travelled lighter, were quicker to move and really were some of the brightest of the group. They were eager too, to get out and please their Lord, to show that they had worth amongst his ranks for bigger tasks.

They picked up a trail in the middle of the woods after wandering for hours with bloodhounds who struggled for a scent. Their witnesses rarely had something left to show for their missing animals, just a head count and a bloody fence.

It was going to be a long road. Owen could feel it from the beginning, this was no easy task. Claire would be unhappy that he was away for so long.

[…]

She woke to the sound of a baby crying, the noise panicked and upset alerting her as if on instinct. Claire sat up, hands rubbing her eyes as she stretched softly, elongating her spine as her shoulders crunched.

When her eyes managed to open her vision was groggy still caught in sleep as she blinked, sight adjusting to the murky light of the room. It wasn’t quite morning, the sky caught somewhere in between where the world was still dark as the sun began its slow rise. Her vision settled as the baby continued to cry, concern building in her chest as she wondered where the child had come from.

She looked around the room, hands fisted in the sheets at her sides as her gaze landed on a figure standing by the crib under the window. Claire was no stranger to her father-in-law, he was built like his son, thinning now in the face and shoulders as age gained upon him and swooped the man off his feet. He was holding something and it didn’t take long for Claire to realise the crying was coming from a baby in his arms.

A protective instinct flared, Claire’s hands moving for her rounded stomach to protect the child within. Her hands fell straight to her lap as her eyes followed suit finding her stomach flat. Panic leapt to a quick staccato in her chest. ‘Put her down.’ She pleaded, panic rising in her voice as the sound cracked. She hadn’t seen the baby but knew this child was a girl. ‘Please, Theon, why-why don’t you hand her to me, she must be hungry.’ She had an urge to hush the child, to do anything to stop the baby from crying and further prevent his frustration from growing.

Claire stretched her arm under the pillow, seeking out the dagger her husband had given her. She pulled herself towards the end of the bed, sliding her legs over the edge as she reached her arms towards the man, fingers tingling for her baby. ‘Please, she’s just a baby.’ Claire whimpered, failing at keeping her cool as her heart continued to hammer.

‘I gave you a very simple task, girl.’ The man sneered sending a chill down Claire’s spine as her arms reached out a little further.

The baby continued to cry, in the early morning light Claire could see her little fists rising above the blanket Theon was holding her in. Claire’s chest contracted, her body rigid as she watched the man with her child, hopeless and helpless to stop him. Owen wasn’t there. She couldn’t spot the wolves either. She was alone in this as Theon held her child in front of her, his next move undetectable.

‘Please, just — Theon, she couldn’t help being born a girl. I prom — I promise I’ll give Owen a boy next. Just, please, give my baby.’ She tried to beg, knowing the man was on the edge and wouldn’t easily give in. He had already given her a shot at this and she let him down. Claire knew she wasn’t in control of the gender of her baby but she was sure if given another chance she could give Theon what he wanted.

The man shook his head. ‘You should have listened.’ There was a knife in his hand, metal shining in the light that broke through her daughter’s window. She didn’t hesitate, nothing in her head thought about her actions as Claire watched the man raise the knife above her child. She lunged for him, sinking the blade of her husband’s dagger into the other man’s chest once she had her baby in her arms.

Claire stepped away from him, as Theon stuttered, gagging on his breath as he moved for her but fell short of reaching the woman who had climbed back onto her bed. She had her baby gripped tight in her arms as she screamed for Owen, simultaneously trying to calm the crying child who was turning red as her little lungs bellowed.

‘Owen!?’ Claire cried, watching her father-in-law cling to life on the floor as he swore at her, demanding that she pay for what she had done.

The room around her shook, Claire’s vision blurring as the baby in her arms continued to cry. It fizzled out for a split second, her bedchambers fading into black as the sound and the weight of her daughter disappeared. When it came back, her arms empty, Owen was standing in front of her, just off to the side of the bed, cradling the same bundle Theon had been holding only minutes earlier.

Her eyes were caught on his face. Owen was distraught, expression pulled in long lines as desperation bled in his eyes. Her gaze drifted to the quiet baby, heart at ease to hear that she had stopped crying. Something wasn’t right. She read it in her husband’s face and the silence of the room, too quiet for a space that housed three bodies.

The light was murky, not quite clear like she was trying to peer through the waters of a pond rather than seeing to the bottom of a freshly run bath. She could see his expression but she couldn’t read why.

‘I couldn’t save her.’ Owen’s words broke in his mouth, spitting small shards across the foggy light as Claire suddenly saw clearly. The bundle he was holding was soaked in blood, his hands covered as he stared at her with helpless eyes, begging for forgiveness.

She was bolted to the bed. The feeling had left her arms and legs as she felt a cry bubble up her throat. Her hands clutched at her flat stomach, scream ripping past her vocal chords as a sob snapped inside of her. Claire could feel herself shaking her head, refusing to accept the words and the visual she was being given.

‘I tried.’ Owen muttered as Claire heard herself beg to The Gods, cries pulling themselves from the deepest parts of her.

She managed to loosen her limbs, feeling coming back to her numb joints as she slipped off the bed and stalked towards him. ‘Where were you?!’ Claire sobbed, her fist landing on his shoulder as she hit him. She had saved her baby, she had stopped Theon and here was Owen, holding their child, silent and bloody. ‘You left me alone!’ She threw another punch, her husband taking it all without swaying as she hit him with blow after blow. ‘Where were you?!’ She asked again, angry and helpless. ‘This happened because  _you_  weren’t here.’ Claire sobbed, falling apart as her thumping against his chest stopped.

There was an ache in her chest so intense it was overwhelming Claire, suffocating her as she swore she felt her womb clench with the absence of her child. Her fingers were swift and precise, hands needy as she extracted the baby from her husband’s arms, easily tugging the bloodied bundle towards her chest.  

Claire clung to the small body in her arms, fingers poking at the blankets before her thumb smoothed over the tiny forehead of her daughter whose skin had turned lifeless and grey. ‘You were supposed to stop him!’ Claire cried, voice snapping as she stuttered into sobs. Her legs were unable to keep her up, knees buckling under the pressure as she fell onto them, caps cracking against the tiles as she kept her tear-filled eyes on her little girl.

[…]

Claire woke with a jolt, body flying upright as she panted, unable to catch her breath as all four wolves looked towards her with curious and concerned expressions. Her hands dropped to her stomach immediately finding her large bump warm and secure. She pressed against one side with her fingers, feeling the baby respond as the thud of her heart started to settle.

It had been a nightmare. Nothing more.

‘Everything alright, m’lady?’ Helena asked attention snapped towards Claire just like the wolves. Claire nodded, still breathless as she tried to brush away her bad dream.

‘It is disorientating not having my husband here.’ She smiled at the other woman, her personal guard beyond the four wolves Owen left her with and the rest of the men that answered directly to him. She knew Bart and Luther were right outside her door, a special station for the last week in Owen’s absence.

Helena smiled a comforting smile, trying to ease her mistresses fears as the wolves around her settled, Delta and Echo wriggling closer. ‘Would you like me to get young Zara to fetch you some tea?’ Helena asked, sitting up straight on one of two chaises that existed in Claire’s large chambers. She nodded softly, thanking the other woman for the offer as she absentmindedly rubbed her stomach. ‘It must be difficult without Lord Grady.’ Claire was starting to view Helena as a friend. She had no ties to the house, was there for Claire and Claire only as acquired by Owen. She felt comfortable.

‘He makes me feel safe.’ Not comfortable enough to reveal her secrets.

Helena nodded. ‘I hope I can make you feel the same way.’ Claire hoped so too.

She lay back down with Echo, fingers brushing through white fur as she cuddled close to the large wolf, pulling her comfort from the animal without remorse. Having all four of them there, in her room made Claire feel as though Owen was only down the hall. His girls had never wandered too far from him and their appearance always meant he was around the corner. She kept thinking that, every fifteen minutes, kept promising herself for the last nine days that he would walk through those doors or enter East Court and swoop her up into his arms.

It had been nine days. Claire was starting to worry for the worst.

Zara’s arrival was announced with the clinking of porcelain, Claire sitting up to smile at her handmaid as she peeped around the girl to spot the man holding the door open. ‘Bart?’ Claire called to him, catching his attention. ‘Can you come here a moment?’ He nodded, easily stepping into the room and approaching Claire’s shared wedding bed, all four wolves watching him with intense eyes as Echo sneered when he got too close. ‘Have you heard any word from my husband?’ He shook his head. ‘I think this little game has gone on long enough, don’t you?’ He chose not to answer but she could see there was a worry in his eyes. Not for her but for Owen. Claire pushed that thought out of her head.

She could still feel her fingers trembling from her nightmare, her throat dry and her words ringing in her ears. He wasn’t there and it was all his fault that something went wrong. Claire couldn’t put her finger on it but she felt a change in her body, a physical and metaphorical shifting. Things with her baby were starting to happen earlier than expected, she didn’t need a healer or Mae to tell her that. Claire needed Owen now, sooner rather than later. ‘I would like him home. I  _need_ him home as soon as possible. Can you see to someone fetching him?’ Bart nodded swiftly, promising his lady that he would personally oversee her husband’s quick return.

Claire kept up a bright smile until the other man had left the room, her body exhausted as she quietly thanked Zara for the tea but not before asking that the girl had watched it be made, not turning away for a second.

It was Mae’s warning that clung to the back of her thoughts. The words of Margot, of what really happened. Claire could feel her mind overworking itself, questioning Zara at every meal, insisting that the girl watch the cooks make it and once in her hands — when immediately plated — that she stop to talk to no one, or even put it down, on her way to Claire.

‘M’lady,’ The girl had whispered one afternoon a few days after Owen had left. ‘I don’t think anyone is trying to poison you.’ Claire had shrivelled, she thought she was being subtle. ‘This stress is not good for the baby. I promise I will do my job.’ She knew there was a reason Zara came with her from The Citadel and that it was for more than companionship.  

It had settled Claire slightly to know that Zara was on her side, the young woman not having been persuaded by any of Theon’s staff in the year that they had been there. It was a small comfort to know that she had support beyond Owen who had been her last remaining pillar of sanity in Castle Grey.

‘He’ll be home soon.’ Zara promised, reaching out to squeeze Claire’s wrist. ‘How about I draw you a bath to take your mind off things?’ She offered with a hopeful smile and kind blue eyes. Claire couldn’t say no.

[…]

The longer he was gone meant the more restless Owen got. He was itching to get back to Claire. He had not realised how much she had been at the tips of his fingers, always lingering nearby and easy to touch. Just once, Owen would have liked to look over his shoulder to spot his wife a step behind him.

They had managed to track down a group of bandits which had seemed to be the only answer to the livestock problem in the townships. It was a days ride from the castle, near and not too far. Owen was intent on watching them, catching the men in the act before making his move. They had returned with three sheep the night before last, happily feasting on the free meal that saw his farmers down in numbers.

They were stronger than he thought for men who were stealing in order to eat. But, freedom comes in brute strength enough that Owen witnessed his men, his companions, pale in comparison to ruthless bandits and thieves. They singlehandedly managed to take out most of the group. It was ten men against four and only three had remained standing, Owen the last on his side. The other men got the better of him. He hated to see himself fail but he was outnumbered by men unwilling to die.

They got the better of him, disarming Owen and leaving him with a handful of new battle scars. He didn’t know why they didn’t kill him. Instead, he was left a broken mess in the middle of the woods, lying in the dirt and the leaves left to stare up at the stars as day and night passed him in relative pain.

He thought he was gone, watching night and day fade over his head as he mulled over exactly how mad Claire would be when they found him dead.

He couldn’t die. He wasn’t allowed to die. She wasn’t safe if he was dead. His father would spend the rest of his life tormenting her and ensuring her torment continued for as long as she lived. Theon would marry her off to the first available man if her baby was a boy and if it wasn’t; Owen already knew how that story ended. It was that thought alone that kept him breathing and his eyes open. He wanted to see his child be born, he wanted to hold that little bundle in his arms and marvel and his creation.

He had to keep living for them. Had to pull the arrow out of his side and cover the bloody cuts on his chest. He had to find the strength to get his horse back or get close enough to the towns to send for help.

Owen didn’t know how long he was out there before he was blinking up at the sky, clouds bright and comforting, suddenly obscured by Bart. ‘She is going to kill you.’ The other man told him, helping Owen to sit as he offered him water from a satchel attached to his belt. Owen grunted. He had plenty of time to think of how angry his wife would be. ‘We need to get you home, Lady Claire is on edge without you.’

[…]

She had been uncomfortable for days. A pinch in her back was causing her unease as she continued to struggle in finding a comfortable position to live out the rest of her pregnancy. It was the ripple of pain that travelled across her stomach that finally did Claire in. It was unexpected and sharp, catching her off guard as she cried out. Echo, sitting by her side — as had become the norm between them — let out a low howl, mimicking Claire’s pain.

The door to her chambers flew open without hesitation Helena and Luther staring at her with wide eyes. She couldn’t pass it off as a fright or a nightmare as she sat, hunched over with a hand on her belly.

Zara appeared from the large closet that housed Claire’s clothes, eyes curious before they turned to shock and excitement. ‘We’ve got to get her to the healer!’ Zara announced almost bouncing on her toes as she moved to Claire.

‘No.’ Claire shook her head, pulling a hand from her stomach as she held it out to Zara, stopping the other woman in her tracks. ‘I’m not leaving this room.’

‘M’lady, I think the baby is coming.’ Zara told her, taking another meek step forward. It was Delta and Echo that growled at her, speaking for Claire as the three bodies present promised to do whatever Claire asked.

‘Fetch the healer … and Mae … but be quiet about it. Theon is not to know this is happening.’ Another wave of pain hit her as Claire tried to grit her teeth through it. She had sent for Owen three days ago and Bart was yet to return with her husband or word of him. This wasn’t happening without him. She refused to let it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OoooooOOooOOooOoohhhHHHhhHhoOoOo she leaves it on a cliffhanger. What a tease.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their child is born and Claire finds her courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening! 
> 
> Writing this chapter was an absolute thrill. I hope you all love it as much as I do!

She was howling when he reached their wing, noting it absent of life beyond a few of his men. ‘What is happening?’ Owen asked in a panic, his voice raised as he pressured the men for information.

‘We weren’t told, m’lord.’ One brave man spoke up. ‘Just ordered to keep people out of the west wing.’ His anxiety rose, paranoia climbing as Owen speculated on whether or not his father would be bold enough to make a move this early. He wasn’t dead yet, limping and battered but Bart had seen him home and he was here to protect his wife.

‘Who gave you this order?’ Owen questioned, trying not to let worry shake in his voice. Claire cried out a second time, the sound making his bones rattle as Blue howled alongside her. The girls were with her, that had to be a good sign.

The soldier blanked for a moment. ‘Luther, Sir. He said no one, including The King, was allowed through.’ Owen’s panic settled, not completely but enough that he felt feeling return to his fingers. He pushed passed the men on guard, Bart in his steed as they blundered up the hall. He hesitated at the chamber doors, Claire’s voice crying on the other side as he steeled himself for whatever was happening. Maybe his father had gotten past the guards, maybe the boys were not to be trusted.

His final push was Claire crying out his name the sound desperate and broken. He pushed the door open with gusto, ignoring the pain in his shoulders as he waltzed inside, eyes wild and worried, scanning the room until they landed on Claire. She was propped up in the middle of their bed, mountain of cushions behind her back, belly bulging and knees up. She was red in the face, sweaty, skin shining with a mix of tears and perspiration. It wasn’t the finest position he had ever seen her in, but she certainly was a sight for sore eyes.

The girls were all there, Blue taking the prime position by Claire’s left side, the wolf only raising her head with a sneer when he walked in the room. He couldn’t help the smile. They were protecting her.

His chest lightened the second he saw her, feet carrying him to her side in a heartbeat despite the cries of a few women in the room already insisting he couldn’t be there. Owen didn’t listen, his only focus was Claire.

She lit up when she saw him, face drawn in pain suddenly softening before she broke down into a different set of tears. ‘Where were you?!’ She whispered between a small sob, her hands on either side of his face as Owen crawled onto the bed. He pressed his forehead to hers, despite knowing he was dirty and bloody, unclean and unworthy to touch her. ‘I was so worried you wouldn’t be here.’ She whimpered, hissing through another contraction.

Owen kissed her deep and hard, relief still flooding his system. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ He promised her, pulling away to see he had left blood on her face.

‘You’ll be sittin’ in the hall, my boy.’ Mae was standing beside them, tutting as she encouraged Owen to move away from his wife.

Claire shook her head, arms winding around Owen’s arm. ‘Please — I want him here.’ She begged only to have Mae shake her head. ‘ _Please,’_  The sound was a whimper, ‘something isn’t right’. She was holding him with a grip as tight as a wolf bite, muscles locked, unable to let go.

‘I’m not moving.’ He levelled the older woman with a stare, side-eyeing Bart knowing she would use him to drag her away.

Claire’s head continued to shake like she was a little girl disagreeing on the importance of vegetables on her plate. ‘Please, I am trying to be quiet but it hurts, Owen, it  _hurt_ s.’ His heart tugged, almost tearing in two.

He shushed her, a hand on either side of her face. She was trying to keep from crying out so Theon didn’t hear, so no one heard beyond their sanctioned off corner of the castle. ‘It’s okay, princess, this is a big castle. You can make some noise.’ He dropped his forehead to the top of her flaming hair, the most he could embrace her in that position.

‘Do you want the Gods to help your wife deliver a healthy baby? Do you want them both to survive this?’ Mae threatened, watching as Owen flinched before nodding softly. ‘Then you’ll sit outside and let us women do our jobs.’ Her voice was stern.

Owen turned back to Claire, another heavy kiss pressed to her lips as he stroked his thumb across the trail of blood he hadn’t intended to leave on her cheek. It wouldn’t come off. He squeezed her hand, lowering his head to kiss the curve of her stomach that would soon be gone, their child in his arms instead. Claire lingered, unable to let go, fear burning in her eyes. ‘I’ll be right outside that door, I promise.’ They both tried to ignore Mae’s insistence that he has a bath and have his wounds seen to. ‘The second our boy is born, I’ll be right by your side.’ He promised in earnest, only wanting the best for her. The Gods would do their job. His son would be safe.

‘Please, no.’ Claire whimpered, still clinging to his arm as Owen pried her fingers away.

He shook his head. ‘You are so strong, Princess. You can do this.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘I love you.’ Owen turned his back as he left the room, escorted by Mae, unable to look back at Claire as she whimpered through more labour pains.

[…]

Waiting was agony.

He stood with his forehead pressed to the chamber doors just listening to Claire cry on the other side. It required every ounce of strength he could find to keep himself out in the hall. They had been separated for over a week which had been enough to have his skin crawling. It didn’t help matters that on the other side of the door, a few feet away, Claire was giving birth to his son.

Owen paced. He wore at the stone beneath his feet, ten paces forward, ten paces back over and over despite the ache in his back and the sting in his wounds. He needed to bathe and change his clothes, he had a wound on his stomach that he was sure was bleeding again. It didn’t matter to him. He wouldn’t move, not until Claire’s ordeal was over.

They got into this situation because of each other and he couldn’t help but feel immensely guilty that he couldn’t help her out of it. It was never-ending, each of Claire’s cries of pain more agonising than the last as he listened to her for hours. When the pacing got to be too much, he returned to the door, forehead pressed to the warm wood as his fingers curled into fists. He banged against it a few times, calling out to her, reminding Claire that he was still there and wasn’t going anywhere.

A healer appeared from the room to tut at him, shaking her head as she promised the road was still long and his wife was no nearer to delivering her baby than she had been when her contractions first started hours ago. She made him sit on the floor as she looked at the cuts on his skin, a bowl of warm water sitting beside her as she tried to clean away several days worth of blood. Owen wouldn’t let the older woman do his stitches, instead, he took the needle and thread in his own hands and used it to torture himself as Claire cried out again. He deserved as much for putting her in pain like that. If he had known she would hurt for his son he would have reconsidered. But this, this was going to be nothing compared to a new life and a long life.

‘It sounds like you’re killing her in there.’ Owen admitted to the woman in front of him glumly. Lily had been with them longer than he could remember, just like Mae, always serving the family, never straying.

She tutted at him again, swiping the nasty gash on his stomach with water that burned. ‘Your young wife was not made aware of how labour goes. This is all been a bit of a shock to her.’ She shook her head, cursing over-entitled parents for never informing their young, only shipping them off and hoping for the best. ‘She’ll be fine, Lord Owen, you have a strong girl under your arm.’ He was trying to be reassuring but his stomach flopped for Claire regardless.

The healer left him with a clean shirt and his stubborn mood, suggesting he find somewhere to sleep rather than sitting in the halls waiting for her all night. He didn’t budge.

‘I did this to her.’ He told Lily before she left him, voice devastated as he stared at the chamber doors with wide eyes.

Lily nodded meekly, accepting his statement not agreeing with him entirely. ‘It has to be done.’

Owen went back to waiting.

He fell asleep hours after the sun had set, trying to keep his eyes peeled in the hopes that Mae or Lily would open the door and welcome him in. No one came.

It was uncomfortable, back propped up against the stone wall, legs stretched out in front of him. No blanket, no pillows, humid day turning into humid night. The weather had tried to change, hot and cold intermingling before it snapped in a loud thread of thunder above his head. It jolted him awake, heart in his throat as he sat fully upright, not a kink in his spine. The rain fell, fat and fast, bringing a thickness to the air that made his skin sticky.

‘Owen!’ Claire shouted, crying out in a different tone than before as the thunder continued to roll without break above their heads. He had heard her cry and whimper for hours, his name rolling across her lips in desperate pleas and angry shouts but this was something else. It set his blood cold, his heart holding a beat as every hair stood on end. He was up on his feet in a second, wobbling as he pushed towards the door and broke in without a second thought.

Claire was in need, actual need beyond her labour pains and no one was keeping him away from her cry for help. The room was in chaos, not the controlled state his wife liked to keep it in but he barely had time to focus on that when his eyes fell on Claire.

She was still where he had last seen her, a little more dishevelled, leaning towards one side of the bed with her whole body. An arm was stretched out, pleading, reaching, grasping for something on his left just out of his sight.

Her attention snapped towards him. ‘She’s not breathing!’ Her words warbled, tumbling up and down as she yelled, unable to keep her voice controlled as emotion-soaked through each sound. ‘Owen, help her.’ He could hear a baby crying, was sure there was something in Claire’s other arm but his sight couldn’t focus, wouldn’t focus with the rush of need in a panicked situation.

He followed the direction of her arm where Lily was standing. A baby was sprawled out in front of her, tiny little thing who could have held her mothers' complexion if she wasn’t turning blue. There was a part of Owen, a small part that he wasn’t proud of, that told him to turn back to his wife and tell her it was for the best. If the baby died, they wouldn’t have to live with whatever Theon had planned for her. Owen couldn’t do it. Not his child. Boy or girl, he realised suddenly that they meant the world to him.

He surged forward, almost hovering over Lily unsure as to what he could do to help. Mae was sitting with Claire, trying to calm her as he watched Lily move, her hands pushing on his tiny daughter’s chest. He couldn’t stop staring, he was sure his hands would dwarf the girl, cover her completely from head to curled up toes. He was caught wondering what she would be like when she could walk and talk and make demands of him when Lily suddenly tugged at the loose hanging laces of his shirt. They gapped open further, leaving his chest bare to the humid air of the room before she placed the baby against his bare chest, positioned his hands and covered her back with a blanket.

Owen’s heart stopped. He felt himself go dizzy. One hand alone covered her from bum to neck, fingers supporting her small head. He had to remind himself to breathe, gentle weight pressed against his chest, her fresh skin on his as he stuttered in, filling his lungs before exhaling. The baby in his arms, her head on his clavicle started crying, loud and insistent as he felt a sob break through his ribs as relief settled over his shoulders.  

He needed a minute. He needs ten. He needed another year before this feeling could overwhelm him.  He didn’t want to cry in front of Claire. He couldn’t do it. He was a  _man_ but the relief and the joy that was jumping around in his system was rendering him unable to prevent tears. They had so long to get ready for this but as Owen lowered his head to the little life on his shoulder, his nose bumping against the soft tuft of hair, he realised they were never going to be prepared.

It was an instinct that had him bounce, the movement in his shoulders and hips as he tried to soothe the young cries of his child. ‘You’re okay, you’re okay.’ He cooed, moving slowly, scared that she would slide out of his grasp or jump as he turned towards Claire. ‘She’s okay.’ He gave his wife a teary smile before his heart stopped a second time.

There was another baby in his wife’s arms, tucked into her left arm, wrapped in a blanket with small arms curled under an identical face. He blinked, and again waiting longer, wondering if it was a dream. ‘Two?’ He asked her, breathless, taking a slow step forward as Charlie ran a figure-eight between his knees, nose upturned, trying to sniff at what he held.

Both Blue and Echo watched him from Claire’s left side, their faces stern, not entirely calm but not outwardly aggressive. They would pounce on him if they thought it necessary. He clicked, sound in the back of his throat as he told them to get off the bed. They didn’t move. Blue and Echo an unlikely duo, two ranks between them; the highest and lowest in his pack. He let them disobey his order, happy that they were sticking to Claire’s side, their heads lowering to lay on top of her legs.

‘Two.’ She echoed with a nervous smile, teeth sliding into her bottom lip as her eyes watered. ‘Nearly one.’ Her blue gaze dropped from his face to the life he held. The life they nearly lost. He looked for Lily to thank her. She had made a quiet exit.

‘A boy?’ He asked, nodding to the child he had heard crying when he walked in. With each question Owen took another slow step towards the bed, avoiding Charlie, avoiding the mess of soiled sheets that had been kicked to the floor.

Claire’s teeth sunk deeper into her lip. ‘Girls.’ She whispered, barely able to make the sound. He couldn’t see her hands shake as she looked down at the child she held. Owen laughed, head thrown back as his glee overtook him. They had not prepared for this. ‘I should have made a bigger crib.’ He told her, sitting by Claire’s hip as Charlie pressed up on her hind legs to take a closer sniff. ‘I don’t think Humphrey will work as a name, either.’ He told her with a soft laugh, watching as her face drew itself in tense lines, her body leaning into his as her spare hand prodded at the blanket that separated Claire from her second child. ‘Hey, she’s okay.’ He told her, braving one hand to hold the baby while the other squeezed at Claire’s thigh. He could feel her small chest rising and falling against his, Owen almost vowing that he would never remove the girl from his side so long as he could feel her breathing.  

She shook her head. ‘You weren’t going to let me name our son Humphrey anyway.’ Claire rolled her teary eyes. He had not been keen on that decision from the second it was made. ‘They do need names.’ Claire looked up, taking her eyes off the infant to catch her husband’s loving smile. It concerned her how calm he looked. ‘We could name them after your mom and sister.’ She offered, asking his permission as Owen shook his head before she could finish the sentence.

‘No, they need their own names.’ It was the same discussion they had when Claire mentioned once wanting to name her sons for her brothers. ‘Emma and Jane.’ He rolled them off his tongue, the first two he could think of.

Claire shook her head, her laugh light. ‘They need names fit for royals, not the daughters of a farmer.’

‘I thought you wanted me to be your farmer, Princess?’ He teased her only to revel in the way she rolled her eyes.

She cleared her throat. ‘Our daughters' names will stand in East Court.’ She hoped if only Theon took a chance on them. She tried not to dwell on the future, only their present moment and she really wanted her little girls to have names. ‘Owen,’ She stopped, voice turned serious. Claire couldn’t keep the thoughts out of her head. ‘What are we going to do about your father?’

Her husband shook his head. ‘I won’t let him touch them.’ The baby he held seemed so much smaller than the one she had tucked in her arm. It was that, or Owen’s large fingers stroking at their daughter’s little knuckles that seemed to make her look like a doll more than a baby.

She couldn’t take his word as law. The shiver of her dream still followed her, threatening harm would come to her baby. It had been right in assuming their gender she couldn’t help but assume everything else would follow suit. Owen had stood in front of her, dead daughter in his arms, telling her he couldn’t manage to save her life. She shook her head, unsure if he could be trusted. ‘I can’t accept that.’ She told him, watching his face as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

‘Claire,’ His spare hand cupped her cheek, ‘I am  _not_  going to let anything happen to these girls. I don’t care what my father wanted, my child is my child and he will have to tear me down before he gets to them or any other man for that matter.’

She felt her bottom lip quiver. ‘I’m scared.’

Owen hummed. ‘I know you are.’ He was too. ‘But, trust me, Princess. You have made me a father and nothing is going to get in the way of that. No one is going to stop me. I swear these girls are safe. I will never send them away. I will never make them live the world you had to. My throne, our name is  _theirs_. If they want to marry, so be it but it will not be forced upon them just as their lives will not be taken from them purely because they were born girls. They are innocent in this. If my father cannot understand that I will do what I have to.’

‘You are not going to make any friends doing that.’ She told him softly, eyes shining with worry despite her chest blooming at his words. She wanted to know her girls were safe, secure in this world and the fact that their father wanted to hand his throne to them less than an hour after they were born proved all the more to Claire that she had been married to the right man.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t need friends.’ His father hadn’t made any being a tyrant. Owen was sure to make waves on behalf of his daughters’ futures but it would not turn people away. ‘They need names.’ He brought her back on track, intent on giving their little bodies names and personalities, committing them to his life with a mark. ‘I won’t be able to call you princess anymore. Soon enough they will be princesses for real and you will be Queen of the East.’

She smiled at him, lashes fluttering despite how tired and ruined she felt. ‘You cannot call them princess for the rest of their lives.’ Claire couldn’t deny feeling a little jealous that her place as his  _princess_  had been replaced within the beat of a heart. She would be lying if she did not admit, had their girls been boys, they would have been her kings before her husband had entered the room.

‘No,’ Owen shook his head, ‘I cannot. What fancy Citadel names have you got to throw at me.’ He challenged the girl who had been sent to him over a year ago, the girl he knew she still was, prim and proper her manners the forefront of her mind along with royal propriety.

‘Amanita.’ She told him, already rolling her eyes before he could scrunch up his nose. ‘Ottilie.’

He hummed, looking back down at the grizzling child hovering over his heart. ‘I don’t know but I think she looks like an Ottilie to me.’ He looked up, movement slow, grin growing as Claire shadowed his expression.

‘I think we have a little Emma here.’ She told him, caught in disbelief that his smile could crack open any wider. She looked away, eyes drawn to the girl in her arm, her thumb drawing circles against her forehead. ‘We can compromise, can’t we? Citadel meets the East. Dearing and Grady both unalike but the same at the heart of things?’ She felt Owen lean in, his kiss pressed to the side of her head.

‘I’m so proud of you.’ He told her, lips to her salty skin as hot tears burned his eyes again. They had daughters and their daughters had names. He would fight for this.  

Her cheeks turned pink. ‘Can I have my Ottilie?’ She asked quietly, trying the name on her tongue. Owen nodded.

‘Yeah, do you want to hold both of them?’ She nodded, asking for a minute quietly before he relieved her other arm.

It took some adjusting but they found their rhythm, Claire holding a daughter in each arm as she looked at them both. ‘Are you really going to give them the throne?’

Owen hummed, watching his wife and twin daughters, imagining his mother’s crown weaved between strands of Claire’s fiery hair as she supported a toddler on each hip and a beaming smile across her cheeks. She would be his Queen he had no doubt about it just as his daughters would inherit it after her. Claire deserved the title, she deserved it for her smarts and compassion, she deserved it because she was not an object but a human being with her own wants and fears. She had endured his father and the birth of his children, it was the least he could give her.

She was fourth in line for The Citadel crown, two brothers before her.

His daughters were his firstborns. He was going to let nothing step in their way. ‘When they are ready.’ He nodded.

[…]

Owen took them to the cottage.

Claire wanted out from the castle and away from prying eyes. He worried about care, the preparation of food and assistance with two newborns they had no idea what to do with. Mae had hit him over the back of the head, telling Owen he knew better. ‘ _You can cook for your wife._ ’ She told him, eavesdropping on their plans.

Mae gave them a crash course in baby rearing, instructing that they couldn’t leave the castle until Claire was ready and able.

‘I don’t want help.’ Claire had told him, settled in for their first night in the cottage, ocean ragging against the cliffs outside her windows as Owen lowered Ottilie into the crib beside her sister. She watched him hesitate, hand reaching back in to settle on each of their small chests for a moment each as he watched them, feeling the rise and fall of their breaths as they fit side by side in the crib he built expecting a large bodied boy.

’I want to raise our daughters, you and I, no nannies and nurses or help of any kind.’ She didn’t want to admit that a little help would be nice. Zara’s time and assistance was invaluable most mornings Claire just wanted to be hands-on with  _both_  her little daughters. She missed the time most children had with their parents and wanted to ensure hers were not deprived of the same thing.

Owen hummed, struggling to turn his back on his daughters on their second night as individual bodies. He had already pulled their crib within an arms reach of his side of the bed and it was not comforting enough. ‘Do you think they’ll be okay to sleep with us?’ He asked, turning wide and curious green eyes on his wife.

She smiled at him sweetly. ‘They’re safer there.’ She reached her arm out to his and pulled him into their bed. They weren’t sleeping and she was exhausted, all Claire wanted was to curl against her husband and let her eyes to close for however long she had before they woke again.

Just as soon as she shut her eyes, Claire was up again, the grizzle of a newborn sounding in her ear as Owen held Ottilie in his arms, and supported Emma against his legs trying to keep them quiet while Claire slept. He was talking, telling them silly little things, like how he thought the fuzz on their heads would continue to grow red like Claire’s and that their eyes were going to be blue like their mothers. He promised them they would have every opportunity a boy had, the world broad beyond their means as he vowed he would help them to reach every star.  

‘But you gotta keep quiet, your mama needs her beauty sleep.’ She cracked an eye open, watching as he tapped a finger to Emma’s nose as the girl grizzled back at him, reminding her mother of one of his wolves.

Claire stretched, raising her fist to rub at her eyes. ‘Mae said I have to feed them when they cry.’ She told him, rolling into his side as she tucked her arms against his hip and studied the side of Emma’s face. ‘Can you tell them apart?’ She asked softly, sitting up and mirroring his position as she took Ottilie, still grizzling, placed a kiss on her head and propped her against her knees.

The girls were identical. Their faces were shaped the same, chins matching, cheeks round. Their noses were just as cute as the other, their lips pursed shaped like the roses in Claire’s favourite part of the main gardens. If it wasn’t for the ribbon Mae had tied to their wrists, green for Ottilie and blue for Emma, Claire would not have known which was which.

‘Ottie’s smaller.’ Owen told her without thinking, a hand reaching out to squeeze his daughters fist. Claire saw it immediately, the second the words were out of his mouth. It could easily be missed but  Ottilie was smaller than her sister.  

Emma struggled to settle after she had been fed. Her sister fell right to sleep in her father’s protective embrace but Emma wouldn’t take her mother rocking her. She moved around the cottage, bouncing the newborn with each step until Claire found herself outside, barefoot in the grass wearing a thin nightgown as the warm air settled around them. The ocean crashed against the cliffs, rolling back and forth as Claire took it all in with deep breaths.

‘I didn’t believe it when they told me you had twin girls.’ She startled, jumping back as her heart thrummed, her father-in-law coming out of the shadows in the early morning light. ‘Thought I would come see it for myself.’ He told Claire, unbothered that the girl was taking slow steps back towards the cottage.

‘Maybe you should come back in the morning when they’re sleeping. They’re much more agreeable then.’ Claire suggested with heart in her throat as the ocean mixed with Emma’s cries making enough noise that Owen would never hear her if she called out. She rocked the baby in her arms with a sense of urgency, trying to calm her as Theon matched every step Claire took. ‘It’s such a shame you couldn’t have a boy.’ Theon frowned. ‘Boys secure bloodlines.’  

She felt the warmth of the cottage on her back and with two steps her bare feet where touching stone. ‘Owen!’ She tried not to let her voice wobble as she kept her eyes on her father-in-law and her grip tight on the baby she held.

‘Father?’ Owen’s voice was concerned behind her, his hand finding the small of her back at the speed of a heartbeat. ‘With what do we owe this pleasure?’ Owen was trying to play nice despite the tick in his jaw.

‘I thought the two of you had it in your heads that running away would be a good idea. It is becoming more and more apparent that you are teaching my people to  _lie_ , son.’ Theon sneered, nose upturned. He had not known that Claire went into labour three days ago and he had not known that his son built a home by the cliffs.

Owen cleared his throat. ‘We’re not running away.’ He told his father sternly. ‘Claire wanted some space. The girls gave us a fright and the castle overwhelms her. I thought the fresh air and some silence would do us some good. Didn’t you ever want privacy, Father?’  

‘I wanted a grandson.’

She felt ridiculous standing with the two fully dressed men. Her husband never took a second away from the girls to change his clothes or detach the sword tied to his hip. ‘The girls are just as good.’ Claire told him, putting force behind her voice as she sought out the courage she had with anyone but Theon Grady. ‘Don’t you dare discredit my daughters.’ She found it, her words felt like a lions roar as she took a step towards the man. ‘Just because you think they cannot take the crown does not mean they are not worthy to be considered heirs.’

Theon looked at her, eyeing her from head to toe as she stood in front of him in nothing but a nightgown that ended a few inches from her ankles and a newborn in her arms. She felt messy, her hair unbrushed in a loosening braid that sat over her shoulder in flaming orange. ‘I knew you would be trouble.’ Theon told her. ‘But, your brother was eager to get rid of you and there is no better offer than a daughter from The Citadel. In truth, I thought you and Owen would kill each other before I got sick of you both.’ He snorted, sound catching in his throat like he thought he was clever. ‘I did not expect this.’ He motioned to them both, son and daughter-in-law a child in each arm, domesticated and working to protect the other.

‘You will lose all standing with The Citadel the second you throw away my children.’ She warned a letter had been sent to her sister in The West and her father concerning the news of her daughters hours after they were born. Theon would not catch the messenger before he reached his destination. He could not deny that Claire and Owen had done everything he asked beyond the gender of her babies. ‘I know you will not risk that.’

She barely noticed Owen slipping Emma out of her arms, the girls cry numb to her ears as Claire refused to back down. Had she noticed, she would have done what he did, taken the other girl and stepped back for her husband to deal with the man encroaching on their space. There was too much rushing through her head, too much pumping through her veins. She saw the wolves out the corner of her eye, all four of them on guard as they stalked towards Theon. Claire felt like one of them. Ready to pounce in the name of protecting her family.

‘Fuck The Citadel, where were they when The Gods left us for dead? Where were they when The Dunwich forced my family out of the home they built. I don’t need you, girl.’ Theon took a step towards his son, eyes on the helpless little lives he was holding.  

‘Don’t you dare touch them.’ She warned, her voice caught between a yell and a hiss. ‘Do you hear me, Theon? You are not to touch my children or my husband. My family is off limits and if you know what is good for you, you will crawl back into the hole you came from and live out your days until you die.’

‘Never.’ He told her, like a petulant child as he took another step towards her helpless husband with his hands full. Blue moved first, teeth biting down on the man’s coat as Claire acted. She unsheathed the sword attached to her husbands hip, revelling in the sound it made as it cut through the air.

Claire could hear the wolves snarling at him as Theon tried to shoo them away, Blue and Charlie yanking at his coat as they dragged him back. He was left with no choice but to step in the direction they led him. Claire caught Owen’s green eyes, her heart beating erratically. ‘I can’t be scared of him.  _They_  can’t be scared of him.’ She told him and her husband nodded.

She followed the wolves out into the night, the sun only peeking in slivers from the horizon as the sky remained an inky blue. He was squabbling with Blue and Charlie, the two of them playing with Theon like he was a toy. Delta trotted by Claire’s side, walking in step as Echo lingered with Owen a few paces behind.

‘My mother died when I was a girl.’ Claire told Theon, a breeze rushing up the cliffs to tangle in the skirts of her nightgown. ‘My father wasn’t sure what to do with me. I was too young to be given a handmaid and too stubborn to listen to a nanny. I had lost my mother. I wanted my father to comfort me.’ She stalked towards him, Theon losing his fight with the wolves to focus on her. ‘So, he let me sit on his lap in the war room while he talked about fighting this man and that. He thought I wouldn’t listen, thought I was too stupid to understand. What I learnt from my father in those days is that the strongest man wins. Sometimes the strongest man has brains, sometimes brawn, some are tall and some are small. Some are as wide as mountains and other as thin as a stream. The odds vary.’ She twirled her husband's sword in her hands, moving the handle between her fingers as the metal glittered in the glowing light. ‘It all depends over what the other man holds above the weaker head.’ Theon fell, tripping on a branch as Blue and Charlie tugged him closer to the edge of the cliff, Claire following with every step. She was still uneasy on her legs, labour making her body unfamiliar but he would not use that against her. Theon was kneeling in front of her now, bowing thanks to the branch as he raised his head to meet her flaming hair. ‘You held my life above my husband’s head and his life above mine. You  _promised_  in a sickening way that if I fell pregnant and gave birth to a girl that she would not live to see a birthday.’ She stopped in front of him, not close enough for Theon to touch as Blue and Charlie flanked him on either side. The ocean roared. ‘I had a little girl. I had two by a miracle of The Gods. I saw my Ottilie stop breathing, saw her life linger in the balance and let me tell you, King Theon Grady of The East. I am not going to witness that again.’

She caught the man shiver. The tip of Owen’s sword pressed under his chin. The same sort of move she had felt in herself all those times he had cornered her or looked in her direction with cold eyes.

‘You have a choice to make.’ Live out his days and leave her family to their peace or see how vengeful a new mother could be. She would no longer be fearful of him, no longer would he hold anything over her head. Claire wouldn’t allow it. She was not the weaker man in this situation any longer.

Theon snickered, sly grin crawling up one side of his weathered face. ‘Do it, girl, see what happens to a pretty little thing that kills a king.’ The wind sang, pulling salt air up to greet her as the grass moved, adding to the melody. Claire inhaled, she could find her peace with this.

She drove the sword home, sliding it into his chest with a grunt as she positioned herself to slide it past the protection of his ribs. He gurgled, blood filling his lungs almost instantly as her father-in-law started to choke.

‘You shouldn’t have threatened me.’ She told him, retracting the blade as her fingers started to shake. She immediately felt a twinge of remorse, regret and consequence climbing up her spine. Claire had killed a king. It was an act worthy of death, the noose around her neck. It was what had frightened her husband from not taking this move earlier. She knew he would try to defend her in every way he could. That confidence tried it’s best to reassure her.

Owen whistled over the gaging sounds of his father’s life leaving the body he occupied. The sound was meant for his wolves and they reacted appropriately, knowing what their master desired as they nudged at Theon’s twitching body in the grass.

They rolled him, Claire not baring to look as her eyes settled on the glowing horizon, sun climbing the dark sky with tangerine light. She heard his body tumble over the cliffs as Blue and Charlie returned to her side, their large bodies bumping against her legs.

‘No one will know what happened here.’ Owen’s voice was warm, his elbow hitting her arm as he strode up behind her, a girl in each arm. She could feel him watching her, his eyes attuned to the side of her face as she kept her gaze locked on the point where sea and sky met. ‘I vow it, Claire.’ She wasn’t so sure. Nobles would look for their king, would question Owen’s claim to the throne and the convenience of timing. If they found his body nestled at the bottom of  _her_  cliffs they would be done. ‘The sea will take him away and absolve us of this.’

Claire nodded. ‘I’m not sorry.’ She told him. He had said it himself, The Grady’s did what they had to in order to survive. She would not live in fear. Claire was surviving.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22 years on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I started posting this 8 weeks ago? Shesh. 
> 
> Thank you all for joining me on this journey. I know it hasn’t been perfect in places but I hope I painted enough of a picture for you to see what I was getting at. 
> 
> It has been so much fun and an awesome start to the year! But, I am looking forward to getting back to prompts and finishing off what will hopefully be a massive one-shot for Imogene.

 

‘Are you sure they are ready?’ Claire asked, watching her husband with a cautious eye. She had learnt to trust his judgment in passing years, not that it was ever questioned. Owen had proved time and time again that he had the best intentions for all at heart. He was a great king, beloved, everything he promised her he would be and more.

The Grady name only continued to prosper in The East with Owen’s reign as their land thrived. Her brothers in their high castles were furious that she had achieved more in The East than they had ever dreamed. Owen kept Claire by his side, his advisor, his queen and his wife. Together they were unstoppable with their feet to the ground and their hearts open.

When news spread that Theon had disappeared eyes turned to Owen, questioning if the man had what it would take to off his father and hide it just to see himself to the throne quicker now that his wife had given birth to daughters. A few voices were insistent that Owen had something to do with The King’s disappearance but those voices were snubbed out by others who needed a king on the throne. Claire didn’t breathe easy until the crown was on Owen’s head and support was strong in his favour.

Claire remained by his side. She never wavered, daughters sitting in her lap as his mothers crown was placed on her head anointing her Queen of The East. He couldn’t have been happier. He was proud of her for persevering but most importantly Owen was addicted to the sight of his headstrong wife refusing to let go of her babies despite it being a coronation ceremony. She held both girls in her lap, one for each arm and they managed to sleep quietly through the whole thing.

Twenty years slid past them like a dream. He blinked and suddenly his daughters were grown, tall women with male suitors and prospects of their own. He couldn’t believe that his Claire had given him eight wonderful children, each and every one making his heart grow a little more. Their lives were full. She remained dedicated to her duties and advisory all while carrying this child or that on her hip, pregnant with the next and promising her husband his land expansions were futile if he did not change his tactics.

He loved her more than he ever thought he could. Each new day taught him something new even after two decades. She was a marvel and a mystery, a god in her own right and his sanity. If he could make the pedestal she lived on in his mind real, he would. For the most part, their subjects adored her. Owen could live with that.

Owen grinned, fingers stroking his wife’s cheek. ‘They are more than ready, Claire.’ He told her easing the worry he knew had built in her chest. ‘But, are  _you_  ready to give up your crown?’ She was newly forty, the both of them still in able prime to keep their place. Owen was voluntarily giving it up.

Claire forced a smile. ‘Of course.’ She wasn’t. Not for jealousy or power, just out of a hesitancy that now was not the time. They were staying on as advisory and would continue to have the loudest voices in the war room. She just wasn’t so sure that it was right. Their girls were young. Her husband just wished to step down from the throne while he still had time to guide his predecessors and it was not a bad decision at all. ‘Come along, my darlings, let us go find your sisters.’ Claire turned her back on her husband, moving across the room to lift their youngest son, Humphrey out of his crib as she hoisted him on her hip and reached a hand for the toddler playing on the floor. ‘Vera.’ She snapped her fingers, gaining the girl’s attention as she picked herself up and took her mother’s hand.

Owen watched them. His wife and two youngest children, pride bursting in his chest as a lazy grin found itself stretching at his cheeks. He was thankful for them. The last two little lives he and his wife would create. Lives that scared him senseless each time she told him they were growing within her. There were twelve years between Vera and Claire’s previous pregnancy. A health scare had kept them cautious and hesitant for more. Owen thought they had made their fill. Six children in six years had been a fair effort but after her third pregnancy ended in triplets, Claire’s body was being to protest loudly. There had been another baby or two between then and Vera but none that made it beyond a few months in Claire’s womb. The two of them had learned to take a hint that it was time to focus on the children they had rather than creating any more.

They were happy with what they had. Three girls and three boys. A set of twins and a set of triplets with their lone warrior in-between. Ruben was happy to sit solo between his siblings, self-appointed guardian of them all as the twins got up to mischief and the triplets threatened to tear the castle down. They were never out of control, Claire ran a tight ship but with two sets of multiples, they found themselves short of hands in Claire’s want to seek as little help as possible.

He told her they were done once the triplets were born, after watching life flicker on and off for all four of them. He wouldn’t risk it again. Owen couldn’t lose his wife. Claire had agreed that six babies were enough. Vera happened twelve years after, out of nowhere and without a single warning. Humphrey (who they had taken to calling Freddie Teddy as his mother clung to him like he was one of Vera’s stuffed bears) followed shortly after.

Never had Owen been more thankful to see Claire with a chubby baby on her hip and their four-year-old holding onto her hand. He didn’t realise that he had missed it, the smell of their newborns and early morning cuddles until it was taken away and returned sometime later.

He stepped forward, hands under the arms of his youngest daughter as he picked her up. ‘What do you think, Vera? Time to find the big girls?’ He asked, squeezing the girl as she giggled while her head nodded.

The big girls were in The East Court throne room exactly where Owen expected to find them. The two of them were fluffing with the other’s clothes in a corner as castle staff moved around them, setting up the hall for the event they had planned. ‘You both look perfect.’ Owen told them with a broad grin, bent in half as he placed Vera on her feet.

From the moment they were born, it was the slightest of hints that could distinguish one from the other. At twenty-two each girl was tall, Ottilie just a few inches shorter than Emma as they had been since they were newborns. Their hair was the colour of flaming bonfires, one darker than the other but both in line with their mothers as Emma’s dared to turn brown. It was their eyes that played the final trick, each girl possessing one blue on the left and one green on the right.

‘Father?’ The smaller of the two stepped forward. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’ She asked, watching him with nervous eyes as Owen asked if it could wait. She nodded as he turned his back, Claire making faces at them, unaware of what her husband had in store.

He turned back with a box in each hand. ‘One for Emma and one for Ottilie.’ He held them out to each child, marvelling at his daughters all grown up. Owen felt it would take a millennium for this day to come but it had passed him by in a flash.

They reached for the boxes he held, fingers eager and faces intrigued as the lids came off and his daughters peered inside. It was followed by a bare whispered chorus of ‘ _oh daddy_ ’ from his daughters and ‘ _Owen, you shouldn’t have_ ’ from his watching wife.

Each box contained a semi-identical crown, one for each twin, different from the royal affair is wife wore. Claire's crown was Claires. It had been his mother’s before her but Owen wanted it to stay on his wife’s head where it belonged braided into her hair. Emma and Ottilie’s were designed for his girls, one slightly different to the other in order to display their individual personalities.

‘I know you understand there is nothing ordinary about this. Sisters. Queens. Your mother has the crown she was given on our wedding day and the crown she wears for duties. I could not ask her to decide which of you gets what. I was going to surprise you at the coronation.’ But they would not have been looking enough to notice. He needed this moment, needed the grins of his eldest daughters and the comfort that he was doing the right thing.

Ottilie bent, kneeling down to show Vera what her box contained as his youngest girl tugged on her sisters’ skirts desperate to be involved. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ She pulled her crown from the box. They had all had tiaras. Vera had a few hand-me-downs that once belonged to Emma and Ottilie as well as what their father had made for Mirabelle. She would not be a princess once her sisters were crowned but she was small enough to not mourn its loss. She would get to keep a few of them regardless, her sisters happy to share what had been theirs in their youth.

‘Can I have one too, Daddy?’ Maybe Ottilie’s thoughts were wrong. Vera wanted just the same as her sisters had, turning wide blue eyes up at him in an expression they all knew would mean her father had been suckered into yet another gift for one of his four daughters.

Owen chuckled, ‘We’ll see, little one’. It wasn’t a promise but all others in attendance knew that he would get Vera a tiara just because she asked. It wasn’t like the blacksmith had better things to do.

Ottilie cleared her throat, seeking out her father’s attention as she handed her box to Emma and led the man away. He didn’t notice her fingers shake as she clasped them tightly in front of herself, the two of them moving down the hallway. ‘I wanted to speak to you before the ceremony.’ She started, voice strong. ‘I think you might remember Prince Darius from The North.’ Owen hummed, nodding as he watched the girl.

The youngest twin had always been the soft one. Out of all his children, Ottilie was the gentlest and sweetest soul he had ever encountered. Age had only made that trait grow stronger. She was his favourite. Owen loved each of his children for their individual traits but it was Ottilie who took her first breath in his arms that he cherished amongst the others.

It worried him that she had wanted to talk.

‘We would like to wed if you would give your blessing. He wanted to ask you in person, Father, but I feared he would arrive too close to the ceremony and you would only deny it for convenience.’

Owen shook his head. ‘You know that you and your sisters do not have to marry.’ He had raised them to know their place in the castle was secure if they never wanted to leave. The last he wanted to see walk out that door was his Ottie.

The girl nodded. She was a woman, twenty-two-years-old, true and able to marry if she so pleased. ‘He is a good man, Father, a kind man. I  _love_  him.’ She ignored the startled look that crossed her father’s face and the fault in his step. ‘I know we do not have to marry but I would  _like_  to. I want what you and Mama have. The love. The family. By the time Mama was my age she had  _three_  children and a crown. You had been married twice. Darius is not his families first born. He is happy to move here to The East. He is not threatened by the crown you wish to place on mine and Emma’s heads. He expects to pay my dowery  _and_  provide men for The East army.’ Her father did not need any extra persuasion for the boy. He knew the young man she spoke of, they had housed him in East Court frequently over the years when his father came to do business. Their families had good standing and so far as Owen cared, he was a good boy, family orientated and kind. He would do right by his Princess Ottilie. Soon to be Queen.

Owen watched her, her young face bright and beaming despite being a little concerned. She looked exactly like her mother had at her age, freckles bridged across her nose as she looked on at him with great expectation. ‘If it is what you want, my princess, then you can have it. You do not have to keep up your duties to the crown if you don’t want to, Em—’

‘Emma and I vowed that we would do this together. I cannot leave her alone.’ She cut him off and her father grinned. They had raised them well. His girls were inseparable.

There was a small commotion at the end of the hall. Nothing dramatic, only the sort of attention dragging noise that came with four bodies approaching, their steps hurried and important. ‘Father,’ The tallest of the group spoke. Ruben was the eldest Grady son, a year younger than his twin sisters. There were five years between him and the triplets, making him the self-appointed head of his sibling group despite Emma and Ottilie managing just fine on their own.

It was Ruben who stepped up, Ruben who stepped forward and Ruben who lovingly advised his sisters on all their royal training. ‘There has been news from The Citadel.’ He was breathless, the three bodies behind him trying to catch the air in their lungs as Owen turned to Ottilie and asked the girl to fetch her mother.

They met in his war room, Claire watching her husband curiously, baby still on her hip as Vera walked directly in front of her with slow steps. The girls were behind their mother, Ottilie trying to pull Vera away as the girl found her father’s leg and clung to it.

‘There is news that Merrick has fallen ill.’ Ruben was the one to talk addressing his mother before turning his gaze to his eldest sisters, the two young women who were taking their father’s position that evening. ‘The Citadel is weak. Father has always planned to strike and now is the time. His son is not ready to be Keeper of the Kingdoms, the boy is older, yes, but immature. They won’t expect The East to rise it gives us a fighting chance.’

It had been no secret amongst the children that their father wanted The Citadel. He did not want to occupy it. He liked his castle on the hill, his cottage nearby and the creature comforts home provided. He wanted The Citadel to fall, the Dearing name to crumble so his wife could be vindicated by the way her brother threw her away. Owen wanted to hand his wife the crown and call her Queen of the Kingdoms just as much as he wanted to hand his children the world on a platter. He wanted justice for his family name for the decades they had to live in unjust squalor. But, he would never have made a move while Rickon Dearing was still alive. Claire still loved her father despite the man’s downright refusal to visit Grady land. He didn’t meet the twins until the girls were five, Owen and Claire packing up their family and visiting The Citadel on a formal invite. They all were uncomfortable.

The man had passed several years ago which left Owen’s opportunity open but not clear.  

‘We need your blessing, Mama, and the agreement of the girls.’ He turned to the girls last, they would take over whatever mess their father left them in and had to know the consequences. Emma and Ottilie nodded in unison flash of red hair agreeing before their mother could respond.

All eyes were on Claire, the woman fidgeting with her youngest on her hip. ‘I like what we have.’ She told her husband. ‘Is it necessary to be greedy with our lives. It will be a hard-fought battle. There is no walking into The Citadel and taking that throne. It will forever leave a target over our heads. Everyone wants that place and if you show that you can take it, they will think they can too. You will have to fight for it and pray that your cousin makes the wrong strategical move.’ Four heads nodded back at her. She kissed the almost blonde hair of her baby’s head, lips lingering as she rocked him. ‘Are you sure?’ She asked, receiving the same nods.

‘The Citadel fucked us.’ It was Mira who spoke, sixteen-years-old and well opinionated as her mother’s head snapped towards her to scorn the girl on her language. Her brothers laughed, Caleb and Tomas with their identical faces, pushing at Mirabelle’s shoulders one on each side of her. Claire knew they shared the same thoughts. Her triplets were as close as her twins. They were just as ferocious, fire burning in their eyes as Mira with her dark hair spoke up. ‘Seriously, Mama, they house The Keepers of the Kingdom and all those men do is hide up in their high castle and ignore the smaller man's problems. If we do not chase them down for personal justice the least we can do, as a house, as The East — is show that we will fight for smaller voices, for the townships and villagers. Papa has worked so hard to show he puts his people first, Emma and Ottie are going to follow in his footsteps let us give them a broader plane. The natural progression is up.’

‘I agree with her.’ Ruben cleared his throat, nodding, arms crossed over his chest looking so much like his father as he stood a foot away from the older man.

‘She talks like she plans on joining my men in battle.’ Owen laughed, looking over at his middle girl, their problematic and rowdy child. Mira nodded, she had every plan to be out there on the frontline, first to infiltrate The Citadel. It was likely their fault, Owen was sure his feistiest bunch had been convinced in a heated moment in the armoury. It explained their sure-fire attachment to the sharpest and deadliest of weapons and a want to be fighting along with everyone else.

Claire scoffed. ‘You are sixteen. War is no place for you. I know it is so close you can smell it but if you or the boys —’ their mother levelled all three triplets with a stare, ‘ —Think for a second you’re going out there, you are sadly mistaken.’ Mira threw herself back into her chair, arms cross and pout present.

‘If you —’ she looked to her husband, ‘—think it is a good idea. And you —’ she turned to the girls, ‘—-agree that it is the right move then I cannot deny you. So long as Ruben is correct.’ She turned to her eldest son, staring him down despite knowing she already trusted his judgment. ‘What do you think Freddie?’ She asked the baby on her hip, eight-month-old gurgling as he sucked on the fabric of her dress. Every child had their say, including Vera who nodded her head when the twins did, thinking Ruben was asking her permission. It was only wise to let the youngest have a foot in on a family decision. Freddie giggled, toothless smile blown wide at the attention he was getting before his little hands clapped together and he laughed. ‘Take The Citadel and don’t you  _dare_  fail me.’ She warned, trying not to let her expression soften for her eldest boy.

Ruben had joined the flanks of his father’s army five years ago, a year younger than the triplets were now. He was never wrong and the hit of his sword was strong. Claire didn’t like the idea of her twenty-year-old advising men on this but they trusted him (Claire and Owen as well as his sisters).

‘I won’t let you down, Mama.’ He promised, rounding the table as he moved to leave stopping to press a kiss to the side of his mother’s head. She marvelled once again that all her children were so much taller than she was, standing high above her head as she started to wonder if she had shrunk each baby taking a few extra inches for themselves.

The sound of chairs scraping across the floor started in unison as Claire watched each of her children get up from their places and move for the door. ‘Wait,’ she called to them. ‘While I have you all in one spot. I have a gift for you.’ They turned back to their mother with intrigued eyes, Mira sinking back into her chair as her brothers slipped back into theirs.

They all took a seat as Claire handed Freddie to Owen’s waiting arms, Ottilie pulling Vera into her lap as Claire promised she would be back in a minute. Eight heads turned as they watched her move towards the door, disappearing for a few seconds before returning empty-handed.

‘Today is about Emma and Ottilie.’ This was not news to anyone but possibly Vera. ‘But, I could not miss the opportunity for giving you all a little something. Your sisters will succeed in this because you  _all_  have their backs. This family begins and ends as a support network; we help each other. Before I met your father he had nothing but a wicked old man on the throne and four very loyal wolves. I  _hated_  those goddamned beasts until I realised how integral they were to your father’s kind nature. They grew on me as he grew on me and stayed on by my side through each of your births. You were their babies as much as you were mine.’ She could feel her husband's eyes trying to catch onto the cogs in her mind, unsure of where she was going. ‘They died a little after the triplets were born so I do not expect you all to remember them.’ She smiled towards her three teenagers, Mira grimacing as her brothers smiled back. ‘They taught Ruben to walk. They kept Emma and Ottilie safe when I was sure that wasn’t a possibility. They were as crucial to this family unit as each and every one of you are.’

One of the men from the stables appeared, basket in hand as the door to the war room swung open. Claire smiled at him, ushering him forward as he placed the basket at the head of the table and stepped away. Each child leant in close.

‘These were found in the woods last week after their mother was killed and I thought it poetic that there were eight.’ She winked at her husband before pulling the cloth off the top of the basket, Caleb, Tomas and Mira all stood, their chairs screeching across the floor as Vera climbed onto the table eager to peer inside. ‘There is one for each of you. To help you prosper and to find your courage, to be your guidance and your protection. I could not imagine life without those girls and it hurts to know that it was brief for all of you.’

‘Pups?!’ Mira screeched, on the table as Emma pulled at her shirt trying to slow her movements and Vera climbed under her arms. It had always been their middle girl who caused a little chaos, Mirabelle the first to reach into the basket, pulling out a whimpering wolf pup. ‘Oh, Mama.’ She sighed, tears in her eyes as she lifted the one she had chosen to her face and pressed her nose into its soft fur. Ruben pulled her back by the belt loop in her trousers, dragging his sister across the table to move her out of the way. Mira didn’t make a peep, only cooed at the little life in her hands.

Owen was watching her Freddie in his arms as his eyes welled with tears. ‘You are too much.’ He told her, ignoring the chaos at the table as their children were reduced to a bunch of fighting toddlers over more than enough toys.

She shrugged, smile modest but sly. ‘I never found the right opportunity. I didn’t want to pluck them from the wild, their mother was killed for hunting sheep in the village. They never would have done it if they realised she had so many pups to feed.’ But, Claire saw it as a sign from the Gods finally allowing her the in to return wolves to her husband's life. He kissed her cheek, arm winding around her back as Humphrey allowed the interaction. ‘You know,’ Claire started, voice low as the fingers of one hand plucked at his shirt. ‘Vera and Freddie are too young to wrangle wolves.’

‘That means they’re mine.’ Her husband grinned, gleam in his eye.

‘They are not, but you will have to be more hands-on with them than the others.’ Who was she kidding, Claire Grady knew her husband would be out on the lawn first thing in the morning teaching all eight of his children (well, maybe not the baby) how to properly train a wolf pup.

[…]

‘She wants to marry that boy,’ Owen whispered to his wife. He was leaning into her side, their shoulders touching as the ceremony began. It was his daughters’ coronation and yet Owen was too busy staring down a boy standing off to their right.

‘I know.’ Claire hummed, facing forward smiling brightly at her fearless girls sitting on the thrones she and her husband had occupied for twenty years.

Owen hissed. ‘What?’

‘She told me, I am her  _mother,_  Owen, she cannot keep secrets from me.’

‘Well, I am her father.’ He rolled his shoulders, pushing out his chest like that alone meant he  _had_  to know everything.

Claire shook her head softly, movements barely noticeable as she tried to cease their conversation. ’It doesn’t work like that.’ She told him, final as they fell silent. Claire could never let things go and her husband knew it. She waited for a beat before turning her shoulder into his. ‘I know Ruben has bedded a young woman which he told you about and not me.’ She couldn’t let him sit there acting like she was withholding something from him.

‘Well, you still knew about it.’ Owen tipped up his chin, playful smirk on his face telling his wife that he wasn’t mad. No one could keep a secret from Claire, she had eyes and ears all over the castle whispering back to her.

She chuckled quietly, shoulder bumping against her husbands. ‘Only because the young woman just so happens to be his sisters' handmaid and she can’t keep her mouth shut.’ It was her turn to smirk, catching Emma’s eye as the girl glared at the two of them. ‘Ruben also told me that you made him swear if he was to marry that he never left The East.’ He had done the same to Ottilie … and Emma… and Caleb … and Tomas. Hell, even little Vera had sworn that she was never leaving home no matter how big she got. Mira was a challenge but he was sure seven out of eight staying was better than nothing. Owen played nonchalant. ‘They’re going to grow up and leave. It’s okay. We prepared them for that.’ He shook his head, now trying to be the mature one not whispering through a coronation.

Claire squeezed his hand, finding it on Vera’s shoulder as their littlest daughter watched her sisters with gleaming eyes. They had prepared their children to leave home but it was looking like Claire had forgotten to prepare her husband.

A crown was placed on the head of her firstborns. The girls turned towards each other grins on both their faces as they tried to smother shared giggles. This was what she fought for. What  _they_  fought for.

The Four Kingdoms were not perfect. There were families that were outraged with The Grady’s for putting two girls on the throne. Her daughters had opposition despite their father being a fair and patient king. She had raised them for this, strong-willed women ready to take on the world. Nothing was going to stop them just as nothing had stopped their mother. And if somebody tried they had Owen to go through along with Ruben and the triplets who would all put up a good fight.

That was how they built their family. Support and defence. It was part of the reason Claire guessed her husband had tried to keep all of their children from leaving The East. They all needed each other. He couldn’t ensure the world beyond their property would be kind to them.

‘Aren’t they wonderful?’ Claire sighed, listening to the room applaud her daughters. Her chest felt heavy, aching with a love she hadn’t known until she held those girls for the first time. It had only increased tenfold with each child that came after that, one by one filling her arms, her life, and her heart. This story could have gone down a different path. Claire had read books where the endings were not happy and understood hers could have been the same. Theon could have overpowered her. The wolves could have been absent. Owen, in blind faith, could have tried to stop her. But he didn’t, the girls were there and her husband understood what had to be done.

They got their happily ever after. Eight happy, healthy and headstrong children, twenty-three years together, two decades on a throne. It was the end of an era but they had so much left to stretch before them.

‘They get it from you.’ Owen told her, tearing his eyes off his newly crowned daughters to give his wife a goofy smile. Being king had not taken that away from him. He still looked at her like he was a boy, love drunk and stupid.

Claire couldn’t help but return the smile. He was her perfect match. She thanked The Gods every day for what she and Owen had. He could have been a different man. Their love could have died out. Instead, it grew stronger the two of them inseparable as they conquered.

‘Have I told you that I love you today?’ He asked, voice soft, hand leaving Vera’s shoulder to grasp Humphrey’s little hand.

Claire grinned. He had. ‘I could hear it again.’

‘I love you, princess.’ He leant into her, kissing his wife's cheek softly as she sighed at his touch. They had everything they could ever want and so much more.


End file.
